Galactic War: Book 2: The First Wave
by ELF Commando
Summary: Kan Enik and his new Master, Adriaan ell Talaan, are deployed to Zylxx, only to find that they must face a foe that they cannot see. When Kan becomes ill, Adriaan has to decide what is more important: the welfare of her Apprentice or winning the war?
1. Sweaty and Exhausted

✶ **Time Period: +1 month after the Battle of Geonosis ✶ **

** chapter 1**

"Again."

Kan Enik wiped the sweat from his eyes and forced his tired legs to turn him around and run. Up ahead there was a thin durasteel beam suspended over a towering heap of garbage. He made a running leap for the beam, calling on the Force to assist his ascent.

His control over the Force had been growing lately; he could tell. It was easier to access it than it had been less than a month ago.

Kan's feet thudded satisfactorily on the beam as he landed. Using the momentum to power his next leap, he double-flipped into the air and activated his lightsaber.

_WHACK!_

Suddenly Kan lost his control. His arms and legs flailed out helplessly as he flew through the air and landed, sprawling awkwardly on something soft and unpleasantly slimy.

It was also smelly.

A young woman in a black tunic was sitting on the beam above him, nonchalantly swinging her long, powerful legs as she casually deactivated her training lightsaber.

"Again."

Though he had greatly improved in the past month, his connection to the Force was till apparently not enough. Frustrated, Kan rose and kicked at the rotten heap. The trash beneath him lurched, knocking him off balance and sending him headfirst into the waste. "Yuck!" he shouted, spitting out a mouthful of an old piece of A'Jula fruit.

"Get up and try again," the girl said.

He sat back on his heels, shaking the foul-smelling debris from his stained tunic. A droplet of water splashed on his nose, and he angrily brushed it away. The blackish-gray sky had been threatening rain all day, and he had hoped that he would get back to his quarters before he got soaked on top of everything else.

But from the looks of it, it looked like he was going to be outside in the storm for a while.

_Well, _he thought wryly, _getting wet can't be any worse than being as smelly and dirty as I am now._

The girl slowly swung one leg over the beam and leaped down to him, landing neatly on top of a discarded astromech hull. She watched him expressionlessly as he picked himself up and hastily smoothed down the front of his tunic with quick, angry jerks.

"Well," she said after some time, "are you going to try again or give up?"

He looked at her dismally. "How did you do that? I didn't even feel your lightsaber hit me."

She didn't answer his question. She just said, "You have to keep your mind open to expectation if you don't want to be taken by surprise. Try it again."

Kan sighed. His Master was a challenging person to be trained by. His Apprenticeship with her had started less than a month ago, and already, his muscles ached with the huge amount of tedious exercises that his Master employed him with.

Adriaan ell Talaan was the youngest Knight in the Jedi Order. In fact, she was only a few years older than Kan, but her brilliant mind and incredible lightsaber skills far outshone Masters who were decades more experienced than her. She believed strongly in lots of rigorous exercises that put both the mind and the body to work.

Yesterday, she had kept Kan busy for hours working on basic moves, moves he had learned years ago. According to her, he had fallen out of practice and was letting his mind wander during battles. Adriaan had drilled into him, making him swing and swing again until his arms gave out with exhaustion. Even though he usually started training a few hours after dawn, all too often Adriaan kept him working until way past midnight.

Kan had thought that the lessons were over for the next few days at least, but it was not so with Adriaan. He was roughly awakened before dawn by his Master, who threw a few protein pellets at him and strode away, without a word of explanation to him, out of his room. Kan still couldn't figure out how she had bypassed his security code to get in ––– he had designed it himself and believed it to be foolproof. Well, either he was a horrible technician, or she was a con artist. He preferred to believe the latter because personally he thought that he was still pretty sharp with machines.

He had followed her out the door, and she had led him to a speeder. Climbing in after her, he was zoomed down to the underlevels of Coruscant. On the way, she had spoken a few words to him, saying, "We're going to work on your focus today."

Now Adriaan crouched down next to him, her keen blue eyes studying him. She was an average height for a human female, and her body was long, athletic, and lean. A slight breeze gently ruffled her long hair, which she had coiled into a rope that hung down her back like a shimmering golden laserwhip. Her mouth quirked at the corners in a faint smile.

"Clear your mind," she said. "It's absolutely impossible to achieve open, alert senses if your thoughts are muddled. Organize them. Don't focus on what will come next, or on what you have left behind; the time will come, or it has already come. Focus on the present moment, and your actions will come of themselves. Then you will be able to react to things with the speed of a true Jedi Knight."

He nodded slowly and began to stand. "But what if I –––"

Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the shrill ringing of Adriaan's comlink.

Before he even had a chance to blink, Adriaan had already whipped out her communications unit and flipped on the transmission. Kan watched as her eyes traveled over the message, her face registering no emotion.

Then, with the ease of long practice, she slid her comlink back into her utility belt and stood up simultaneously. Without pausing, she leaped with an easy grace off of her precariously balanced footing and landed on stable ground with a catlike quality. Not even bothering to look over her shoulder to see if he was coming, she swiftly strode toward the speeder she had parked only a short few meters away.

Obviously, lessons were over. Kan hurried to keep pace with his Master. "Where are we going?"

She vaulted into the pilot seat and gunned the engines. Kan sprinted the last two meters and leaped in after her, puffing from his exertion. He couldn't trust her to wait for him to get in. Last time he wasn't in the speeder before her, she had taken off, leaving him practically stranded several hundred meters below the Jedi Temple. It had taken him hours to find his way home. It could have taken less, but he had gotten lost several times trying to avoid the more dangerous places in the sub-levels. In the end, he had to completely rely upon the Force to get him out of there. Following the strong attraction of the Living Force, which he could safely assume that was coming from the hundreds of Jedi living at the Temple, he had returned to his quarters, feeling half-dead with exhaustion.

He had opened the door to his room, ready to collapse onto his pallet, only to find Adriaan lounging against his desk. She hadn't come to apologize, or to even ask if he was okay. She had just stared him down with that unnerving catlike gaze of hers. When Kan had demanded to know why she had left without him, she had just shrugged, replying easily, "You didn't get in fast enough."

Now his stomach lurched as she pushed the vehicle at maximum speed ––– and a notch beyond ––– immediately plummeting downward in a nosedive. Wrenching the controls upward, she squeezed the speeder into a tiny spot in a spacelane, between a swoop and an airbus, with barely a millimeter to spare. She suddenly swerved and zoomed few levels down, barely side-sweeping an airtaxi and pulling into the lane.

Kan's hair stood on end. He almost preferred the gazillion-meter trek he took through the under-levels instead of flying with his Master. At least he felt safer walking through the domains of gangsters and thieves. At least they were predictable. Flying with Adriaan felt suicidal.

"You like my flying." Her smile had an annoying touch of sarcasm about the corners.

He decided he wasn't going to answer the question. If it was a question. "Where are we going?"

Adriaan tilted the speeder sideways to avoid hitting another speeder. "I thought you wanted a break."

"Yes, but –––"

"Okay, since you're going to play stubborn, I'll let you choose. You can take a break from all activities this week and just hang around and relax. Or –––"

"Or?"

"You can get involved in a dangerous mission that could mean my death…or yours."

He wasn't daunted. "You know what I'm going to pick."

She grinned. "The break."

"The mission. I need to get out. I'm starting to feel caged."

"Then let's get moving. Mace Windu hates waiting."

Adriaan accelerated and zoomed several levels up. A taxi suddenly swerved in front of them, and Adriaan yanked the controls down to avoid hitting it. Kan's jaw clenched as the air shattered with an earsplitting sound of metal grating against metal. Adriaan grazed the bottom of the airtaxi and swerved up in front of it, cutting in front of several other vehicles stuck in the traffic jam.

Kan stole a look backwards. The taxi driver was leaning out the side window and shouting a string of curses at Adriaan in Huttese, shaking his fist and making threatening gestures with his arm.

Kan turned back to look at Adriaan. She was grinning widely from ear to ear.

"That should teach him. Stinking driver scum can't tell a traffic signal from a headlight."

He shook his head at her. It was going to be a long ride.


	2. Polar Opposite Twins

** chapter 2**

Kan breathed a sigh of relief when he finally caught sight of the Jedi Temple's spires, gleaming orange-red as the Coruscanti sun peeked out over the first towering buildings of the urban planet.

Adriaan circled the Temple landing docks, looking for a space to park in. She suddenly tilted the speeder into a dive, at the same time cutting the power and jamming the controls upward. Kan felt his stomach flip sickeningly as the speeder dropped like a bright blue stone to land perfectly in a docking space.

His Master grinned as she climbed out of her seat. She jerked her chin toward the turbolift, beckoning for him to follow.

He shook his head in shocked amazement. When he wasn't in the same vehicle as her, he actually admired Adriaan's skills as a pilot. There was no other Jedi in the galaxy that could execute a landing like that as well as his Master.

_Yes, her flying abilities are impressive. From a distance._

They stepped into the turbolift, and Adriaan hit the button for the top level, where they were to meet the Jedi Council. The turbolift zoomed upward, carrying its passengers to their destination.

They waited silently as level after level flew past them. Both of them were busy with their own personal thoughts. They had been a Master and Apprentice team for only a few weeks, so obviously they hadn't developed strong ties between them as it should be between the trainer and the student. This mission, whatever it would be, would help them form a Master/Padawan relationship.

_At least I hope it does. She isn't very sentimental._

_ Maybe she just doesn't show her feelings._

The mission was not unexpected. He had been waiting for it to surface for a long time. He had felt so impatient this past week, pacing up and down the Temple levels like a wild beast put on a chain. To help lighten the tense atmosphere, Adriaan had suggested the training exercises. At least it gave him something to do while he waited.

Kan knew that his Master had also been very impatient for something to do. She was a fast-paced, energetic person by nature, and nothing infuriated her more than being forced to come to a standstill.

She had disguised her impatience well, though. She had managed to keep an impassive face the whole agonizing week. Yet he could still sense that she, too, was pacing inside her own cage. In fact, it seemed that everyone in the Temple were tugging at their leashes. They all wanted to get out. And they had a good reason, too.

Because a war was being fought.

Everywhere Kan looked, he was reminded of the war: The absence of many skilled Jedi, the students all nervously jumping about – tightening belts, fixing lightsabers, and stuffing survival packs. When Kan looked out any window, he always saw the columns of troopers marching through the streets, going off to some battle, the orange sun glinting off of their white helmets.

But even if Kan could not see the evidence of a conflict, he knew it was happening.

Because he had been there when it was first begun.

For years now, the Senate, the core of the Galactic Republic, had been in turmoil. The senatorial complex on Coruscant had countless meetings every day, yet nothing seemed to get done. The senators kept bribing and flattering and arguing, and still, everything remained undecided.

Many systems became fed up with the endless debates, and so decided to secede, forming into an organization under the leadership of an ex-Jedi called Count Dooku. In secret they began to stock weapons and battle droids in the hopes of someday succeeding in a galactic takeover. Surprisingly, the remaining systems reacted quickly to the threat. The majority of representatives voted for emergency powers to be given to Chancellor Palpatine, who readily agreed on condition that when the conflict ended, he would give up his power and hand it back over to the Senate.

While all of this was going on, the Jedi were not idle. They had just discovered a planet that was not recorded in the Jedi Archives, which were supposed to be complete. The Council suspected tampering with the files, but it could not be proven for sure. The only people that had that kind of access to the Archives were Jedi Masters. To suspect tampering meant to accuse fellow Jedi. And to accuse a fellow Jedi meant to call him a traitor. And to call a Jedi a traitor meant one less warrior to defend the Jedi Order. And the Council certainly did not want that.

They had sent a skilled Jedi Master to find out if the planet really did exist. He soon confirmed it. The planet was inhabited by cloners. Upon the Jedi's arrival, he immediately discovered a strange thing – a clone army had been created for the Republic. And he found something even odder still – the army had been ordered by Jedi Master Syfo-Dyas, who had been dead almost ten years.

No one had had any knowledge of the army, but needless to say, everyone was elated upon the discovery. The Chancellor's first act had been to recruit the clone army to counter the increasing numbers of the Separatists.

The Count's plan was put out in the open when he took the Jedi Master captive. The Order reacted by organizing a surprise attack headed by Master Windu. Kan, unnoticed by the two-hundred available Jedi that were recruited, had stowed away on one of the rescue ships. Upon landing, they had launched the attack.

But to their dismay, the Jedi found themselves outnumbered a thousand to one. At the buzzer, the clone army arrived and ultimately turned the tide of the battle.

The Jedi had won the first battle, but unfortunately, one battle was not a war. The Separatist leaders escaped, looking for easier planets to invade. The Jedi did not pursue them; it was against their code to attack and anyway they had taken heavy losses, so they returned to Coruscant.

_But by then it was too late…_

Kan scowled. This was a memory that he thought he had gotten rid of. He had shoved it into the back of his mind, back where he never went, naïvely hoping that he would eventually forget about the whole thing. But he didn't. Instead, the memory always seemed to be popping up into the front of his thoughts, taunting, always taunting…

Because it could not be forgotten. Because Adriaan was not really his Master…

_Here we go again._

A few weeks ago, he had had a different Master to instruct him, to train him, to give him the comfort that Kan did not think his new Master was capable of giving. He had had a much older Master, a Master that could have been Kan's father if Kan had not been a Jedi and had needed a father.

But now Ruru Xelan was dead.

He could see it now, as clear as if it had just happened. He shut his eyes, trying to rid himself of the terrible vision, the vision that had been all too real, that _was _real.

"_Jango Fett, don't shoot!"_

_ "Adriaan, I don't need you. My Master is here. He's coming to get me…"_

_ He swiveled his blasters at Ruru and fired._

_ "NO!"_

_ This wasn't true. This was just a dream. Ruru would never die…_

_ "Kan, he's dead."_

"_K-a-a-a-n-n-n__._"

Adriaan had laid a hand on his shoulder. She was looking down at him with a mixed gaze of sternness and sadness. "You are thinking of Ruru again."

He sighed and forced his tense muscles to relax. "I cannot forget. It is hard to get him out of they way…" his voice broke off.

"Well, first of all, you're doing it all wrong if you think that you really are going to forget. Because you can't. The thing you have to do is _don't focus on it. Move on_."

"But it's hard. Everywhere I go, I see Ruru there. Because a few weeks ago, he _was _there. On this turbolift, on the landing platform, in the Council chambers…" he felt his throat tighten.

She wasn't looking at him now. She was staring at the floor numbers. "I hate being a replacement," she muttered under her breath.

Kan winced. It was the unspoken thing between them that perhaps made them feel so far apart. It was a thing they couldn't get past. It would always be between them, he feared, and they would never become a true Master/Padawan team…

"…But maybe you need a little more time," Adriaan's voice shattered his thoughts. "At least until you can rebuild your core. You're still without a foundation. It may take longer than I thought for you to get used to this…"

Kan shook his head sadly. No. It was action he needed, not this idle, dreary waiting, when all he could do was remember and regret. No. Only a mission would bring them together. Only a mission would get rid of his old Master.

It had to.

*****

On a regular day, the Jedi Council was impeccable, unreadable, and downright neutral.

But now that they were in the middle of a war, the atmosphere seemed hostile.

At least that was what it felt like when Kan and Adriaan strode together through the door and took their places in the center of the room. Looking at each of the grim faces seated in a circle around him, Kan felt like a wampa rat cornered by a pack of battle dogs. That was how penetrating the wise old Masters' gazes were.

_Actually, I feel more like a piece of meat frying on a stick._

After a moment, he began to notice that some of the members' faces were pinched up as if they were smelling something terrible. To his horror, Kan suddenly realized that the person that was stinking up the room was himself. A sick, rotten, nauseatingly sweet odor seeped down through his nostrils and into his throat. He stifled a gag. What did he look like, if he smelled like a walking trash heap? Sweaty, disheveled, uncombed, his tunic stained and rumpled, his boots sticky with slime and mud, his face moist from the residue of rotting vegetables…

He felt the blood rush up to his face in embarrassment. He had been reprimanded several weeks ago, when they had found out that he had disobeyed a direct order from the Council by sneaking aboard one of the ships bound for the Separatist stronghold, Geonosis. And now he had annoyed them with this! The Council must hate him now.

Of course, the only one who did not seem to notice that he stunk was his own Master. Adriaan herself was clean, but dressed far too casually to go before the Council. She was garbed in a short sleeved, loose-fitting tunic that was gathered at the shoulders, making the coarse dark brown cloth drape about her gracefully. Loose athletic pants, work boots, and a battered utility belt completed her outfit.

Kan looked at her, half-scornful of her easiness and resentful of her lack of formality and respect to the Jedi. _Ruru would have never even let me go inside the Temple looking like this…_

_ Grow up. Adriaan shouldn't have to remind you to clean yourself up._

The doors hissed open behind him, and he turned to see who else had been summoned. After all, it was very likely that another Master/Padawan team would be needed for the mission. Kan knew many Jedi students. Perhaps one of them had been summoned. At the very least, he wouldn't feel _as _lonely. Adriaan wasn't a talkative creature.

To his surprise, it was not a full-fledged, ready-for-action Knight that he saw. Instead, a tiny figure blocked the light coming through the doorway. It was a human girl of about eight or nine years, with a face that was very round and shockingly spotless in contrast to Kan's grimy face. Solemn dark eyes stared at him in cold disapproval as she walked slowly toward the center of the floor in tiny, perfect steps. Bowing reverently toward the Jedi, she shoved an errant brownish-black hair back, smoothing down her long hair that had been severely pulled back into a whip-like braid.

Mace Windu, whom Kan considered to be the greatest Jedi in the Temple next to Yoda, nodded at the girl. "Ah, yes, Andora Kenobi. Take your place." He looked at Adriaan and Kan. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. But you could've taken the time to clean yourselves up."

Everyone, including the girl, glared condescendingly at them.

Kan felt his face grow hot. Adriaan alone kept her cool. She shrugged nonchalantly, dismissing Mace's obvious pickup for an apology.

Mace tried to stare her down, but he soon gave up. No one could stare Adriaan down. "We'll begin presently," he said finally, his gaze icy as he looked at Kan's Master.

Kan sighed with relief. That must mean that someone else was going to be involved with the mission. Why else would Mace say, "We'll start _presently_"? Adriaan had said Windu hated waiting.

He struggled to keep his face neutral as inside, his heart began to lighten. He secretly hoped that the other person would be his student friend, Zett Jukassa. But it was unlikely that Zett would join them - he had already been chosen by a Master, but he was having a lot of pressure put on him at the moment. He had been having disturbing visions of past events, and was now being guided through his difficulty by Jocasta Nu and his new Master, Mierme Unill.

Perhaps it would be the talkative and bubbly Jordin Skraps, along with her sullen Clawdite Master, Jade Yil. Jordin had also been involved with Kan's escapade to Geonosis. At least she would keep his ears occupied, though his mouth would have a break. Jordin rarely let anyone, even her Master, have a chance to speak.

His glance went sidelong toward the girl Mace Windu had called Andora, the child whose face was as impeccable as a Council member's. Something in her name touched a button in his mind. _Kenobi. _There was a Jedi Master who went by that name. Kenobi had been the Jedi that had discovered the clone army, and the one who had been captured by Count Dooku. Andora's attitude and looks bore a resemblance to Obi-Wan. Was it possible that they were related?

Not that it mattered, of course, for the Jedi cared not for their kin. From the very beginning, a student was taught that he must treat his fellow Jedi, his fellow beings, as his family. He should respect his teachers as he would respect his parents. Because the Force often was found in all the offspring of a family, many Jedi actually had real brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles that were also Jedi. It was something interesting to think about, anyway, at least while he was forced to wait.

_Even though the body is at rest, the mind must always work, _Adriaan had told him countless times. Well, this time, he was going to listen. If he wanted to be a Jedi someday, he needed to practice these things.

Again he thought of Mace Windu. He distinctly remembered Adriaan remarking that Mace hated to wait. Procrastination to Mace was like a plateful of disgusting broiled gorgas to Kan. He carefully searched the Master's dark face, trying to draw out an emotion. Unsuccessful, he withdrew his gaze and inwardly sighed. Why did Masters remain so measured and calm all the time? Were they incapable of getting excited?

The Council room doors slid open again to admit another small personage. Unlike the stony-faced Andora, this one was a boy with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. His hair was unkempt, and though stained with dirt, Kan could tell that it had once been a light blonde color. The boy's blue eyes stared at them mockingly.

"Hello, stupid people that do GOOD deeds and have no love for the works of the WICKED," he said by way of formality.

Kan could not help but moan. Here at least was one of Kenobi's relatives that he knew about. This kid was none other than the little-known younger brother of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Kan and Aedan had clashed together before in the past. Aedan was the leader of a youngling club whose chief activities went along the lines of creating chaos. They believed that they were invincible, and they called everything associated with themselves "wicked" But things that they did not approve of were unanimously coined as "good stuff" They were the most confusing group of beings that Kan had ever had the misfortune of teaming up with.

The Wicked Club, as they were called, had also stowed aboard the Jedi ship, and they, too, had been at the crucial battle of Geonosis. They had stood back to back with fellow Jedi in the battle, had gotten caught in the act, and had been reprimanded for their disobedience just as Kan had.

Kan had not seen them since then, and he had not wanted to. It was mostly Aedan's fault that Kan had been on the ship at all. He had been trying to stop them from stealing the cruiser and taking off, but instead, the Jedi pilots had boarded. Fearful of being discovered, Kan had hidden with the Wicked Club. The Club was composed of weird nine-year-old students with a taste for extreme action. They were always being punished some way or another - extra meditations, detentions, special classes with Mace Windu, getting locked up in their quarters for days at a time - none of it made an impression on them. They most likely would never get Chosen by a Jedi, and they would be forced to leave the Temple and work at the failed Jedi AgriCorps. So what was Aedan doing here?

Mace Windu glared at Aedan and motioned with a touch of impatience at him to enter.

Aedan skipped to his place at the center of the room and winked at Kan. Kan kept his gaze straight ahead, refusing to respond.

"Now, to begin," Windu said. "The Separatists have scattered since the battle on Geonosis. But they are far from defeated. We have received a stress signal from a system in the Mid-Rim. The sovereign system of Syleeto has been invaded by Trade Federation troops. The Republic has held a strong industrial position in the system, though it is little known and has few resources of its own."

"I know the Syleeto system well," Adriaan interrupted. "The capital planet is Zylxx, yes? Aren't they also a major mining site?"

Mace Windu nodded, his expression noticeably irritated. It was obvious that he was not used to being interrupted. " It is part of a large mining corporation," he said. "But apart from its affect upon the mining industry, it relies completely on imported materials. On many of the planets, substances necessary to produce plastoid can be found. Our buildings, weaponry, droids, transports and computers rely upon this material. The Separatists seek to take away the advantage of our main armory resources."

"The Senate has detached a clone fleet to counter the invasion," Council member Adi Gallia added. "Commander ell Talaan will lead the attack."

Adriaan looked at Gallia for several moments. "Commander?"

Mace smiled grimly. "You and your Apprentice will leave when you are ready." His gaze traveled over their faces until it came to rest on the two Younglings. "Now, concerning the agreement we spoke of several weeks ago," he looked at Adriaan as he said this, "you will take the twins, Andora and Aedan Kenobi -"

"I'm WICKED!" Aedan yelled obnoxiously, causing several members who had been focusing on Adriaan to turn and stare at him in shocked silence.

Only Windu seemed unaffected by the outburst. He continued as if their had been no interruption, "As you know well, we have spoken to you as to their fates. Even though they are still of a young age, the Council has unanimously agreed that because of our dwindling numbers, we will speed up the process of student to Knight. Not only that, we will also begin to allow Masters to take on multiple Apprentices. We are hoping to introduce entire clans of Padawans being trained underneath one Master, as we do in the in the youngling stages of a Jedi. This mission will be a test case. You will take the Kenobi twins and your own Apprentice with you. Treat them as you would treat a clan under your training. If all goes well, Jedi may begin training groups of Apprentices instead of just one student at a time. Is that understood?"

"What?!" Adriaan lost her cool momentarily, scandalized at the suggestion. She, too, had no love for the loudmouthed boy. And from the look of things, Andora was not the type of person Adriaan necessarily liked, either. "I mean, that's great and all, but I was under the impression that it would be a few years from now. He's still, well, you know -"

Windu waved a hand in dismissal. "Your argument is out of order. Meeting adjourned.


	3. As If Training Aedan Wasn't Bad Enough…

** chapter 3**

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Adriaan stalked down the hallway, slapping her too-large boots so that they made a satisfactory _thud _as she stomped upon the tiled floor.

_Stinking Aedan Kenobi._

Of course she had known that the suggestion would come. She just hadn't seen it coming. She didn't know exactly what possessed the Council to do such a thing. It had taken everything in her very being to walk out the door without completely blowing up from humiliation and mortification.

But she had done it. First, she could not break her mask of outward serenity in front of her Padawan, because it was bad for his mental development. Second, because she knew that it was test. The Jedi were watching her.

She was always being watched, taken note of, critiqued, by the others. By the others, she meant mostly the entire Jedi Order. She was not offended, for they had a good reason to be keeping tabs on her. She herself was a test, an experiment. If an experiment had even one tiny little malfunction, an investigator would dismiss it as a failed test. It was the same with her. If she took even one little misstep, such as blowing up in anger right in the middle of a Council meeting, she would be considered a failure.

Why? Because she was officially the youngest Jedi Knight in recorded in the Temple Archives. She was so young, in fact, that she didn't even tell anyone her true age, because that would make her feel even more left out. Though she had told everyone ––– fellow Apprentices, Knights, the Council, and even her own Padawan ––– that she was eighteen, in reality, she had just barely passed sixteen years old last month.

Of course she didn't _choose_ to be the youngest Knight. It had been out of necessity. There were no other options open for her, so the Council had suggested that she underwent the trials. And so she had become a completely different person within a day. Adriaan, the ambitious, mischievous, daring young girl, had been replaced by a person filled with remorse and anger, filled with memories so terrible that it pained her to even think of them. Adriaan, the real Adriaan, the Adriaan that was filled with hopes and dreams, was caged within the dark Jedi that she was now.

_I wasn't even ready. They don't know what I have been taught. What makes them think that I can be just as good as any of them with only five years of formal training? And not like the training I received counted…_

She had lived with the Jedi ever since she could remember. She had arrived like countless other Force-adepts, yet from the very start, she had been different. She had a weird Force connection that had set her apart from the rest, forbidding her from mingling among the regular Force-adepts. Though this Force connection had never been seen before in a Jedi, it was common among the Sith.

She was a Dark-Force adept.

The Jedi could not determine where she had gotten her Force abilities. No one was known to have been born actually having a connection to the dark side. Yet she had been only two years old when they had discovered the defect.

Everyone had known about it, not only because a discovery like that was hard to keep a secret, but because when certain students were around her, they would feel the effects of the dark side emanating from her very being. So she had been neglected by the rest. "darkling" and "Don't go near that dark-force adept over there" and even "The Anti-Chosen One" were usually what she heard about herself when the Apprentices thought she wasn't listening in. As a person, she was not popular, and she had had many rivals in her Padawan days.

Among the Masters, she had been dubbed "the terror of the Jedi Order" for her infamous abilities as a prankster. At least, she had been leading the pack in trips to Council members' offices until the unknown sibling of Obi-Wan Kenobi had arrived to snatch away the much-coveted title.

Aedan Kenobi. The founder and king of a boys club that did nothing besides jumping off the tops of the immense skyscrapers on Coruscant, eating all the food in the Temple kitchens, and disrupting Masters during their meditations. The only being in the entire galaxy that could drive Adriaan stark raving mad without even really trying.

And now she was going on a life-threatening mission with him in her charge. And even worse ––– the Council had deliberately sent both Aedan and his stony-faced twin to test Adriaan's resolve.

_Is the Council blind? Can't they see what's in front of their own faces? They're sending me that Aedan and his prim little sister with high expectations of my success? I didn't even have that much faith in driving out the Seps all by myself. Why are they so confident that I'll teach Aedan something? Can't they see that Aedan and Andora are both insane?_

Apparently they didn't see. For here she was.

"By the Council's decision, pleased you are not?"

Adriaan turned around to confront Master Yoda. In normal circumstances, she had found the greatest Jedi in the Order too calm, too old, and too slow to be really of any use when it came to war. But she knew better than to underestimate the seemingly weak eight-hundred and seventy-four year old. If you could feel the Force, which Adriaan certainly could, than you would know that there was something more beneath the drab gray robe of the small Master.

Adriaan looked at him. One thing that was intimidating about Yoda was his gaze: clear and sharp, as if he were seeing right through you, and she was sure that he could. Because she knew this, she also knew that it would be useless to lie to him, so she just burst out with the whole truth. "NO!" she exploded. "Aedan Kenobi is hardly ready for Apprenticeship, and I doubt that anyone would seriously consider him. What is more, you added his solemn little arch nemesis to the list of my troubles. It is work enough to be teaching one Apprentice. I understand that we are running out of trainers to train the Padawans, and I understand that we will need to make a lot of sacrifices if we want the Order to survive. But do you really think we need Aedan and Andora to succeed?"

She paused, out of breath. Now that she had done it, she felt tense, ready for the blows to come. She looked at Yoda with apprehension. _I've said too much, _she thought to herself, _Here comes the lecture._

To her surprise, Yoda didn't look shocked or angry at all. His expression was as unreadable as ever, yet Adriaan caught a twinkle in his clear grayish-blue eyes. "Surprised, I am not," he said. "Felt your anger at the meeting, I did. Disappointed, I am not. Yet agree with you, I do not. The twins, ready they are. Young, they are, foolish, they are. However, in ability ––– in the Force ––– ready. The Council, create a new group of students they will. Students not quite ready for Apprenticeship, yet way past the clan stage, favor them we will. These little ones that are not quite so young, formed into Padawan clans, they will be. Like the younglings, these clans will be, yet also like the Apprentices, since accompany their sole Master on missions they will. Why we are starting this, understand you do. Too few Masters there are. Too many killed on Geonosis, there were." His face was etched with unspeakable pain as he said this. He had known nearly all the Masters and Knights since they were babies, when they could look at him face to face. What torment was it for him to endure seeing the beings he had watched grow up, from children to powerful Jedi, slaughtered so utterly that the original two hundred Jedi dispatched to Geonosis returned as a pitifully wearied, scarred handful of warriors?

Yoda sighed deeply and gazed keenly into her face. "Much of you I see, in Aedan, I do," he said to her. "Bold, foolish, stubborn. As an Apprentice, overcome them he can. And with you as his trainer, overcome them he will."

"But why me?" Adriaan said. "Why now? He will never be chosen. He is too reckless."

"Learn from you, he must," Yoda said. "Teach him, you must. Masterless, he may always be. A loner, he is. His sister, the Council chose. As a counterbalance, serve she will. Discussed many Jedi, the Council has. But agreed that you must be the one to train him, they all have. Because of your power. Because of during your own Apprenticeship, what you learned."

"I didn't learn anything from my Master," Adriaan interrupted brusquely.

He looked at her sharply. "Yet from what the Master did not teach, you learned."

_ Is that a riddle? _Adriaan wondered.

Aloud she said. "So what would Aedan and Andora learn from me?"

"Your teacher, experience was. Most of all, pain, sacrifice, endurance, humility it taught you. These things, young Kenobi must also know. To become a Jedi, strong, yet not overconfident he must be.

"But hard, it is, the task we have assigned to you. A choice, you have. Trouble, with your Apprentice, with yourself, you will doubtless have. Much anger in both of you I see. Much pain. The wall enclosing you, broken through it must, if wish you do for your Apprentice to trust you. Accept our decision, you may not."

Adriaan could tell what he was getting at. It had been a challenge all along. She stifled a groan. She should have expected it. This mission would be a test, as she had guessed. But what she did not know until now was that the results of the test would not only determine the future of Jedi students and methods of teaching, but it would also provide a foundation for the Council to stand upon if they wished for her to take on Aedan and no doubt his entire little clan of monsters as the first Padawan clan. It made her feel sick just to think of it.

But there were no other options left for her, for she herself was a test. If she refused, the Council would inevitably label her as a failure because she had refused to step up to the challenge when they had asked for her aid. Part of Jedi doctrine was to always be ready to volunteer, to always be ready to fill in the Order's needs. To refuse an order meant that you were not completely loyal to the Jedi. And nowadays, those who were supposedly unfaithful were branded as traitors and Separatists. Adriaan certainly did not want to be labeled as a Sep. Especially because of her attraction to the dark side. It would be considered a symptom to her susceptibility.

She squared her shoulders. "No. I accept my assignment as I have accepted all the others. I recognize it as a necessary duty to fulfill."

Yoda stared at her for what seemed like eternity. She imagined herself as a small flower wilting underneath the heat of a flame. She let out a long-held breath when he finally nodded, turning around and moving off toward the turbolift.

She watched him hobble away. She felt almost satisfied from the results of her conversation with Yoda. After all, she was way more than capable of handling a little eight-year-old. She was a Jedi. She could do this. She had tangled up with Aedan before. What could he do to her?

_Hey, look at the bright side. At least the Council was considerate enough to send me just the leader, instead of the entire Wicked Club on my heels._

Yoda stepped onto the turbolift and faced her. The doors began to close.

"The Wicked Club, to accompany their leader, eager they are. Disappoint them, advise I do not. Learn on this mission, you all will."

The doors hissed shut with a dull clang. Adriaan watched through the transparisteel window as the capsule carrying Yoda whooshed up and out of sight.

She looked around. The hallway was empty, so she turned her face toward the ceiling and let out a cry of protest.

"NO!"

She sank to her knees upon the stone floor, her stomach feeling light and empty. She should have known. The Wicked Club never went anywhere without Aedan, and Aedan never went anywhere without his club. They were as inseparable as banthas at the fodder bucket. She now had no hope of remaining sane or alive. The Jedi had given her the responsibility of handling not only Aedan and Andora and Kan, but the whole blazing bunch of naughty little boys that called themselves the Wicked Club. The Council could have sent her all the students that lived at the Temple and she would have had less trouble and far more willingness to complete her task.

_They're trying to get rid of me._


	4. Takeoff, Briefing, Ready for Landing

** chapter 4**

Kan tapped his foot impatiently. It was at least fifteen minutes past the appointed time the group was supposed to depart for Zylxx, yet he was the only one that had showed up. Where was everyone this morning?

Maybe he shouldn't feel so surprised. Aedan was notorious for being late ––– it guaranteed that everyone would witness his entrance, which was always dramatic and radically entertaining.

Adriaan wasn't the type to be on time, either. He'd seen enough of her to know that. And she definitely had no guts for the task that lay ahead. Yes, his Master was gutsy ––– too gutsy ––– unless it came to Aedan and his gang. She was no doubt hiding in her quarters, hoping the mission would cancel itself. Kan couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't dared to refuse to take Aedan and his sister with her ––– because he knew that she was too independent and stubborn to bow down to the wishes of the Council without questioning their orders.

_Stop treating her like a kid, _he told himself sternly. _She's your Master. She can handle Aedan. She knew that she could. That's why she didn't protest._

_ "But she _is _a kid," _Kan felt like saying. "_Even she admitted that she's like five years older than me."_

_Think Kan. Don't judge by appearance or by how old someone is. Look at Yoda. Size and age matter not._

Kan had never thought of his old Master as a kid like himself. Ruru had always been a quiet, powerful presence standing at his side, supporting him through his troubles, chasing away his fears. He had always trusted his Master and had believed in him.

"_Adriaan only makes me __more__ afraid. Afraid for her. She's hiding something. Ruru never hid anything from me. He told me everything."_

_ But how do you know? Maybe back then you weren't paying any attention. You aren't giving Adriaan a chance. You're already assuming that she will fail. You have to trust her. Trust is believing in people, believing that they will do right, even though you don't know their inner selves completely. Trust her._

He drew a deep breath. _This first mission with her should help, _he said to himself, _I'll try to do what she says. And I'll try to trust her. That is all that I can promise._

Suddenly a horribly foul stench assailed his nostrils. His nose wrinkled as the smell seeped down his throat. This time, he knew that it was not him that stunk. It was someone far smellier and infinitely more –––

"WICKED!"

"Well, here comes the assault," Kan muttered as he saw an all-too-familiar blond youth emerge through the hangar doors and charge toward him.

"Kan! WICKED KAN! WICK-Kan! Long time no see!" Aedan screamed, turning cartwheels around Kan. "WICKED, WICK-A-WICK-A-WICK-A-WICKED!"

"WICKED!" chorused two more boys that appeared behind him.

"Terry! Na'thin!" WICKED morning to you!" Aedan yelled to them in greeting.

A tiny, thin human boy popped his head out from around the other two. "Do not forget the WICKED Kien!"

"WICKED, WICK-A-WICK-A-WICK-A-WICKED!!" the boys shrieked, capering around Kan.

At that moment, Andora entered the hangar, walking stiffly in short, choppy strides. She stopped when she saw them, her arms swinging limply as she stared at them with an expression of scandalized disapproval. She tilted her nose haughtily at them with obvious disgust. "Stop that incessant and disruptive racket at once," she said in her clipped, sharp little voice. "Many of our good, righteous Masters are resting. They must rejuvenate their energies so that they will be prepared to teach their students thoroughly and properly. Are you listening, you horrid vagabonds?"

Aedan stuck his tongue out at his sister and crossed his eyes at her.

Adriaan suddenly strode in after Andora, her face grimly set. She stood poised, as if ready to flee at a moments notice. "What is that despicable smell?" she demanded of the Wicked Club.

"US!" they yelled at her. "WICKED!"

"Yes, 'Wicked'" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "now, before we WICKEDLY leave, I suggest we WICKEDLY do roll call."

"Roll call?" Kan wondered aloud. "But I thought only Aedan was–––"

Adriaan glared at him. "Change of plans."

"But –––"

"No 'but's," Adriaan said crisply. "You may ask questions, but once I give the answer, it is _final._ The Council thought that since they handed me the leader of all idiocy, they may as well just throw in all of his lot with me. I'm sorry, Kan, but it is my fate to be tormented thus. Do you understand me?"

"Yes Master," Kan said.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You know that I don't like you to call me that."

"Um, sorry Master Ree," Kan said, struggling to keep his face straight. One of the things that made Adriaan seem much more laid back than a regular Master was that she insisted from the very beginning that Kan cut out all the formalities with her and just call her by her nickname, "Ree" He was still grappling with the concept of addressing her as a fellow student, even though she had graduated from Apprenticeship about two years ago.

A half-smile brightened her features. Winking at him, she turned to face Aedan. "Okay, let's go through the list." She bowed mockingly toward Aedan. "Your WICKED majesty," she said pompously. "You are looking very hot today."

Aedan grinned smugly, either ignoring or not seeing the sardonic smile on her face. "Me _Always _look WICKEDLY hot."

She rolled her eyes at Kan and gestured toward Terry and Na'thin. "WICKED Terry and WICKED Na'thin are here," she said. "And –––"

She frowned at Kien, who sprawled on the floor, covered only by a ragged pair of leggings. "Who's that half-naked moron over there?" she asked mockingly. "Kien Mariner, right?"

She frowned with pretended anxiety. "But where's the old grump and his herd of banthas?"

"We're right here," a chubby boy said, waddling over to her. Behind him was another, equally fat boy. Both had dulled, half-witted expressions that had made Kan contemplate countless times on how they could pull it off as Jedi students. Lastly, a dark-haired, scowling boy came up and slouched sulkily in the background.

"Minir! Jahn Pa'ul and Sai'wer!" Aedan said. "WICKED morning!"

"Good morning," Jahn Pa'ul said.

"Good-bye!" Sai'wer said at the same time.

"Humph!" Minir growled.

Aedan glanced sidelong at Adriaan. "You're gettin' to be pretty WICKED, girl," he said.

"Says WICKED like a WICKED," Terry agreed.

"Oh, _thanks_," Adriaan muttered.

"Hey, Minir!" Kien called out. "Maybe you should add that GOOD old bantha cow to your herd!" He pointed at Andora, whose cheeks flushed.

"_ENOUGH!"_ Adriaan shouted. "Just get yourself and the rest of your brainless minions on board so that I can get going! The faster the mission gets done, the better."

"Than we will be sure to make the trip as WICKEDLY long as it is WICKEDLY possible," Terry said.

*****

They had been in hyperspace for days now, but to Kan, it had felt like years before the planet Zylxx had appeared on the navigation screen. The Wicked Club did not break their word ––– they had tried and had succeeded in making the flight as agonizing and as interminable as possible.

They were flying aboard a Republic assault ship, and even though it was large and had an infinity of spaces to hide in, Kan had found it hard to escape from the Wicked Club. He had nearly fainted with relief when the command clone pilot had announced that they had invaded Syleeto airspace.

A clone trooper approached, marching at a swift, clipped pace. Kan barely glanced at the number on the side of the clone trooper's helmet. Generally the clones were given no names; they were addressed as a series of letters and numbers, according to their legion and rank.

The number on the clone said CT-1279. His armor had black and orange markings, indicating which brigade he belonged to. _Private of the one hundred and seventh legion, _he calculated automatically. Not that he really cared ––– he had tried before to speak to the clones, but they had all proved unimaginative and not very talkative. Kan found their neutral, technical way of speaking boring. And besides, they all kind of creeped him out. The physical and emotional personality of one was exactly the same as any other clone, which made it next to impossible to tell them apart. And the fact that their characteristics weren't their own, but rather copies of an original bad guy didn't serve to lessen Kan's uneasiness around them, either.

The clone saluted stiffly. "Commander ell Talaan requires your presence on the command bridge, sir."

"Would you please stop calling me 'sir'?" Kan asked.

"Against orders, sir. Shall I direct you to the bridge, sir?"

"No, no," Kan said, preferring to guide himself, "I can direct myself." He brushed past the clone.

"Very good, sir."

The clone did not follow, but strode off in the opposite direction, much to Kan's relief. Perhaps part of the reason Kan didn't like them was for this: the clones were made for war. They literally lived for death. The thought sickened him whenever he was near one of the bounty hunter's copies. That was why Kan preferred to avoid them. It didn't pay, he was sure, to make friends with a born killer.

The command bridge was the control center of the ship, situated in a tower several hundred meters above the main body of the cruiser. Kan liked to imagine it as the ship's mind. Everything was decided at the command bridge, and everyone in the ship was commanded by the pilots and commanders at the bridge.

Kan had been there often ––– it was the perfect spot for stargazing. The one thing Kan loved to do the most in his spare time was to watch the stars, planets and their systems rotate in the depths of space. And since he had too much time to kill on his hands, Kan had done a lot of stargazing over the past few days.

And when he wasn't staring out the huge transparisteel screens of the bridge, he was busy watching the crew work.

The Senate had sent a small, compact regiment of ten AT-TEs, eight SPHA-Ts, 16 LAAT gunships, 64 speeder bikes and a force of 2,304 ground troops aboard an _Acclamator II_-class assault ship to counter the invasion of the Syleeto system. The commanders had to access the data they received about the outlying positions of the enemy ground units, and they had to organize their own infantry in accordance. It was the crew's job to tackle the various holocharts and streams of datafiles that were continually being updated on the Syleeto system, its inhabitants, customs, government and climate, which might prove useful information once the battle began.

On top of that, the crew had to make sure that all the outlets for the CIS were blocked, to prevent any of the Republic's fleet from having a confrontation with them prematurely. It seemed an endless task to be a bridge crew member ––– day by day Kan watched them scuttle back and forth, dragging utility carts, typing in information, giving orders to the pilots and clones, checking the ship for damage, monitoring the navigation screens in the hopes of intercepting incoming Separatist craft ––– he never tired when he was in the command bridge. One thing he had to give the clones credit for was their efficiency and flawless military training. He had seen them in combat on Geonosis, and he knew what they were capable of. Though they lacked the numbers of the Confederacy of Independant Systems, they were more superior to the factory-produced droids in both mental and physical capability.

Just then he sighted his Master, who was hunched over a datascreen intently, her brow creased with concentration. She hardly noticed him as he came up behind her to study the screen.

_Zi-zi 110725-998236ZA1aHAWK 453QUASAR 751 TAU 0010 2751…_

"What is this?" Kan asked. "Military codes?"

Adriaan looked up and saw that he was there. She waved her hand over the datascreen. "It's the positions of our fleet," she explained. She grabbed a laser pointer and jabbed it's neon-green beam at the word _TAU_. "Some of these ships, like the starfighters and the assault cruisers, have names or an I.D. number so that we can track each individual craft separately. Some of the series of numbers map out the coordinates of the ship. Right now _TAU_ is flying on the starboard side of our ship, which is assigned the name _QUASAR _in this file."

"Oh."

Adriaan closed the file and selected one which was entitled _NEBULA. _Kan leaned against the console and stared at the screen.

_Queen Hyrax has maintained possession of the smallest southern continent on Zylxx. Most of the Zylxxians have fled to Hyrax's stronghold, but approximately seventy-five percent of the inhabitants have been captured and put in concentration camps. The Queen has stationed her own bodyguard around the perimeter of the city. They are recognized by the iridescent purplish plastoid armor that they are outfitted with. The people of the city refer to them as _Nebulae. _Close surveillance of the captured capital has suggested that…_

His Master sighed and closed the file. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her long legs and clopping them on top of the console. "I've got a headache from staring at numbered codes and datafiles for six hours straight."

"What's our situation on Zylxx?" Kan asked.

She cocked an eye at him. "The droid army has laid siege to the city for almost a month now," Adriaan said. She quickly accessed a file containing a holochart of the area. She poked the laser pointer at a red dot on the map. "That's the capital ––– Zi'yx-zi-si-wi." The name spilled easily out of her mouth as if she had been saying it all of her life.

Kan looked at her in admiration. "Could you say the capital's name again?" he said. "You said it too quickly."

A grin lit her face. "I can't say it slower," she said. "Zylxx is a very complicated language. It is spoken very rapidly and with very little pause between each syllable. It's similar to Geonosian and Sullustan, except Zylxxians put emphasis on the consonant sounds. The vowels keep the words flowing from one to the next. So you say it like this: Zi'YX-Zee-See-Wee."

He shook his head incredulously. "Sorry. I still can't get it. Do the Zylxxians speak basic?"

She looked amused. "No," she said. "They do not have the proper vocal cords to speak anything beyond their language. And you shouldn't feel so chagrined about not being able to speak Zylxxian, either ––– no other species has been recorded to have been able to speak the language."

He looked at her. "Besides you."

She chuckled. "You've got it. When I was young I always felt fascinated by the many languages spoken across the galaxy. I learned many of the common ones ––– Huttese, Rodian,Sullustan, Jawa dialect, the usual ––– but I yearned to speak the ones that could not be spoken by human beings. So I got a course in Wookiee languages ––– but instead of just learning the words, I also learned how to converse in Wookiee. So I guess that's where the whole thing started. So far I can speak Wookiee, Zylxxian, Geonosian, Gungan, Mon Calamari, Aqualish, and of course a few others on the side."

She stretched in the chair, tipping it far back as she reached her arms up over her head. "Now back to the subject. The Separatists attacked the Zi'yx-zi-si-wi area first, taking the Zylxxians completely by surprise. It was just after the battle of Geonosis, and most systems as far out as Syleeto still hadn't received the news yet. Because of this, the Seps easily secured control of the capital and the entire continent surrounding it. Those who were not immediately captured have either gathered on the sparsely populated side of the planet or have fled Zylxx altogether. The citizens remaining are demoralized ––– most of their leaders have escaped to safer regions of the system, abandoning their people. Only their recently elected queen, Hyrax, and those loyal to her have not left. We may have a lot of work to do to get the Zylxxians straightened out."

"Isn't the queen a good enough leader?" Kan asked. "Why is she having so much trouble calming her people down?"

Adriaan leaned forward. "Hyrax was elected less than a month ago, and she barely won the election. Her rival, Hygél, is a rich politician with many powerful friends in the Senate. How she was elected sovereign ruler of the system, I'll never know. She has taken several politics classes and is active in her planet's government, but she is only eight years old and comes from an average middle-class family that immigrated to Syleeto decades ago. She has just begun her term as queen, so her people most likely have not come to completely trust her yet. She is currently the youngest to run as queen in the system's history."

Kan shook his head in amazement. "She must have a sharp mind to be that good in politics." Secretly he was a little envious of Hyrax's abilities. He believed that to be a good politician, you had to be a galactic genius. Even with his Jedi training, he still had a hard time understanding the ridiculously complex rules of the Senate, and he was positive that he was not alone in the struggle to master them.

Adriaan shrugged. "So they say. But I don't judge anyone until I meet them in person; I have nothing to say about her until then."

An alarm shrieked across the space, shattering his concentration as it screamed into his ears. "Approaching destination," a metallic, artificial voice echoed as the alarm died away. "Planet Zylxx of the Syleeto system, Mid-Rim. Repeat, approaching destination. Prepare for landing."

Adriaan closed the file and stood up. "Let's go."

Half an hour later, Adriaan and Kan were conferring with the clone commander assigned for the mission. The commander, introducing himself as Urak, looked no different from his clone brothers, except for the colored markings on the plain-colored helmet, indicating his rank. His face possessed no personal quality that set him apart from the others; it was the blank, hard, grim face of thousands that had been born into a life without compassion or feeling, a life of labor, blood, and death. Urak had removed his helmet, tucking it under his arm. Without their masks, Kan thought the clones looked less like hardened emissaries of death and more like regular beings, yet he still wished that he didn't have to see an unmasked clone's face.

All the clones had been created from a sole host. The cloners, no doubt, were experienced in their art. The DNA they used as a template was the best they could have chosen, because it belonged to a warrior. And a warrior had all the highest qualities people wanted to see in a soldier. So the clones, because of their makeup, were made of the best stuff that caused them to take such a brutal life so neutrally, which would not have been possible had they been cloned from a softer being.

Yet Kan wished that they had chosen another as the clones' host. If they had only used some other person, some other battle-hardened being, then he would not mind looking a clone in the face. But they hadn't. Instead, the person they had chosen had been none other than the same cruel Mandalorian that had taken his former Master's life.

Jango Fett.

He knew it was silly of him to be afraid of a face ––– but the clones were so like Jango in their looks and abilities and the way they reacted and moved ––– it was like seeing the resurrected form of a man long dead.

"…Nebulae are stationed in small areas around its perimeter." Urak's clipped, military voice cut into his thoughts. "Queen Hyrax has suggested that General ell Talaan and her Padawan learners land near a Nebula station, so that her guard can escort you to the palace, where she may inform you of our situation and, if possible, advise you on how you'd best proceed to clear the enemy from the system."

"But that would alert the CIS of our presence," Adriaan pointed out. "This is all an unnecessary risk. We'll land some of our troops in groups aboard small cruisers, leaving the assault ships in space to cut off the Separatists' communications. I and the Apprentices will meet with the Queen and try to persuade her to recruit some civilians as soldiers. Numbers count in battle, and I want to have as many infantry as possible. Urak, I want you to recruit a clone squad of your choice, and I want you to land and scout the area surrounding the capital. Report all positions to the orbiting cruisers. We'll meet at Hÿÿ and put together all the details. By then the Seps will have discovered our positions, if not before. I'll do some tampering with the communications system on the ground while the assault ships land to unload the rest of the units and vehicles, so that the CIS won't get a chance to send a message to other Separatist fleets. Now, any suggestions?"

"Very good, General. But what method of attack will we use against them? We are far outnumbered. We can't attack them in full force. We need to come up with a surprise move to break their army up, ma'am."

"Those details will come in later, Commander. Right now all you need to worry about is getting the information I need so that we can outmaneuver them."

"Yes ma'am. We'll get the information for you right away."

"I'm sure you will."

Urak saluted and marched away. Adriaan turned and spotted Kan. "Padawan," she said. "Inform the younglings that they must gather their belongings and prepare for landing. I'll meet you in the hangar bay. We have an assigned transport that'll get us to the surface."

"Yes, Master."

"Ree. Or Adriaan."

"Yes, Adriaan."

He managed to stride away, looking purposeful, without losing his composure. But once safely out of the command bridge and away from his Master's probing gaze, he let himself give in. He slumped his shoulders, groaning aloud. His Master had given him the worst possible job she could have thought of. He had no heart to fulfill his task. It was next to impossible to relay a message to the Wicked Club. Most of the time he never even got a chance to speak.

It wasn't long before he spotted a thin, scraggly youth with white-blond hair skipping through the hallway. A cloud of insects buzzed happily around the boy's head. He caught sight of Kan and scampered toward him. "Hello, WICKED Kan," he called out cheerfully.

"Hi, Kien," Kan said hesitantly. Not all the Wicked Club was hard to handle. Kan had always liked Kien's wisecracking manner, and he preferred the small, goofy youth to the rest of the motley group.

Kien's frank green eyes sparkled with merriment. His eyes were the strangest thing about him. They looked unnatural ––– neon green shot with yellow flecks. Topped with a thatch of almost white hair, Kien was physically the most noticeable in the Wicked Club.

"Whas-up, WICKED Kan?" Kien asked, thunking him on the back with genuine friendliness.

"Oh, nothing," Kan muttered. _I won't give him the message, _he thought, _I need someone who is more reliable. Kien would probably mix up the message. _ "I'm looking for Minir," he said aloud.

Kien's eyes widened in surprise. No one ever wanted to see Minir. He was the dark, silent presence that seemed to smother all inclinations to smile or laugh when he was near. Kan had always disliked the forbidding scowl that was ever present on the boy's face. And he had never come to trust the mean, shifty, slit-like eyes that stared at everyone with undisguised contempt. Nevertheless, Minir was the man for the job. He alone of the Wicked Club would not forget Adriaan's command.

"Minir?" Kien asked.

"Yes. Minir," Kan said, trying to sound more sure than he really felt. "My Master, uh, has a message I need to relay to him."

Kien seemed satisfied with the explanation. "Down the hall, seventh door on the right," he directed. "But don't be GOOD. Minir woke up on the GOOD side of the bed today. Your message had better be WICKED."

"I'll make it quick. Thanks, Wicked Kien."

Kan turned to go, but after a moment Kien called his name. "WICKED Kan?"

He stopped and turned. "Yes?"

The boy grinned. "You'd better unclip your WICKED weapon."

Kan nodded seriously and whirled around. He got the message: Be careful.

He was in the sleeping portion of the ship, and now the hallways were alive with activity. Clone troopers, always moving in even-numbered groups, marched past in battle formation. Some paused for a moment, pressing against the wall to let the others pass as they checked a weapon or a wrist comlink to see if it was functioning correctly.

Kan passed by several doors as he traveled down the corridor. He ignored these, however, and continued to look straight ahead, counting the doors on the right as he passed them. _One, two, three._

Ahead, the fourth door suddenly opened, and he stopped to let the person pass. To his surprise, it was Andora Kenobi who stepped out the door. She was checking the gear on her utility belt, so she didn't notice him as he approached to give her the message.

Kan stood by her for a moment, clearing his throat awkwardly. He hadn't spoken to her before, and he was wondering how to proceed when she looked up and caught sight of him. Without a word, she straightened and squared her shoulders. But she did not look him in the face. Instead, she stared straight ahead at something over his shoulder.

He coughed. "Um, Miss Andora Kenobi, um…" he groped for words nervously. Her stiff, military pose and businesslike attitude was putting him off-balance. And he didn't like the way she avoided looking at him, but kept her gaze riveted over his head, as if he were only a glob of slime on the floor. And her cold silence made him feel like a glob of slime even more. "Master, er…Adriaan would um…Adriaan wants you fully packed and in the hangar in within a quarter of an hour," he finished in a rush.

Her smooth brow puckered ominously. "How _dare _you!" she said, her tone clearly implying that she thought of him as an oversized, clumsy youngling that had dared to speak to her high-and-mightiness. Kan would not have been surprised if she put her hands on her hips and shook a finger at him.

Her stern yet childlike voice thudded into his brain as she punched each word into the air. "…you disrespectful, naughty, naughty child! Since when does a little _student_ like you call his peer by her first name? Dreadful! The Jedi Order has lightened the weight of its hand on the newest generation of students. In the days of the Old Republic, students such as you were left to rot on forsaken worlds! I shall go tell Master ell Talaan of this at once!"

"But she _wants _me to call her Adriaan," Kan protested. "And she wouldn't really care about what you had to say about her lack of discipline, either." He felt slightly annoyed at being admonished by a youngling several years younger than him.

"_More _impertinence?" Andora cried. "How dare you! She _must _care about what _I_have to say!"

"Why?" he asked bluntly.

She looked so shocked that for a moment all she could do was stare at him incredelously, her lips moving silently. " 'Why'? Because _everyone_ cares about my opinion!" she said finally. With another huff, she brushed past.

"Nice to see you, too," Kan muttered. He had never felt more belittled, pestered and aggravated in his life. "Anyway you're a bit off target when you say that _everyone _cares about your opinion," he said quietly to her retreating back, "because I don't. And Adriaan doesn't, either. And Aedan and his Club definitely doesn't give a rip for what you have to say."

_I'd almost rather speak to Aedan than to her, _he decided as he continued down the hall, _Those Kenobi's have mental problems._

Kan paused before the seventh door. He listened for a moment, calling upon the Living Force. He felt a response to the call almost immediately. Minir was near.

He took a deep breath, then knocked sharply upon the door.

Suddenly, the door hissed open and a small, dark figure darted out. Before Kan could react, it had barreled into him, knocking him to the floor.

Minir picked himself up, shaking a mane of ebony-black hair away from his pale, almost colorless face. Dark, angry blue eyes snapped at Kan as he sat up, struggling to catch his breath. "Dumb Apprentice," Minir muttered. "If your going to spy on someone, for stars sake don't make it a botched GOOD job!

He scowled at Kan, who could only stare at him with wide eyes and gasp helplessly. "All right, get out with it, you GOOD! Why were you lurking outside my door?" he demanded of Kan.

"I was coming to give you a message –––"

"Liar! GOOD man! Why can't you watch where you are going?!" Minir screamed.

"Where _I'm_going? It was _you_who knocked me off my feet by running into me! _You_should watch where you're going!" Kan had never felt so outraged in his life. He had only been trying to give Minir a simple message, and instead he was accused of espionage. This was worse than having to deal with Aedan himself. At least the Wicked King didn't accuse people of spying, as long as they chose the correct words to address him by.

"Shut up, GOOD man," Minir said rudely. "You have trespassed upon my obliging will and on top of that have interrupted my WICKED meditations. Now scram before I have to WICKEDLY kill you!" He slammed the door in Kan's face.

Kan did not scram right away, but stood outside for a moment, trying to cool down his temper. _Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe. Breathe._ He felt his mind clear.

He rapped his knuckles upon the door, hoping that at least he would still have a chance of relaying the message without risking his neck by going into Aedan's domain. But there was no answer to his call. He knocked again. Still no answer.

Kan stood outside another minute, then decided to leave. Obviously the conversation, or argument, had ended for Minir. No doubt all forms of communication between him and the grumpy boy had ended permanently. But that didn't really matter. There were plenty of other people, who were much more understanding and cheerful than Minir, to talk to.

Kan sighed and trudged back down the hall. _Maybe I should just speak to Aedan, _he thought, _at least he won't throw a fit for absolutely no reason, like Minir and Andora. As long as I use the expressions "wicked" and "good" correctly, and if I say that I like the Aquahawks pro-laserball team, I'll be okay._

He was so busy reciting what he would say to the Wicked King, that he didn't see Terry until he had run smack into him.

The first thing he noticed about Terry was that his reaction was completely different from young Voss and Kenobi. "Whoa, hello, WICKED," Terry said. "Whatcha thinkin' about, WICKED?"

Kan grabbed him by the shoulder before Terry had a chance to scamper off. "Wicked Terry, you're exactly the person that I want," he told him. "Could you Wickedly tell the Wicked King and his Wicked men that we are going to Wickedly leave in about ten minutes? Tell him we'll Wickedly meet him in the hangar bay, at dock 12C14. Got it?"

"Sure, WICKED," Terry said, saluting. "I've got ya covered. WICKED-bye-bye!"

Terry galloped off, eager to deliver the message to his leader.

Kan blew out a long-held sigh of relief.

"Well, that was easy," he said.


	5. Hÿÿ

** chapter 5**

The planet Zylxx was a large urban spaceport that orbited around the binary suns, "The twin gems of the cosmos" Their craft glided across the industrial landscape as Adriaan circled the city Hÿÿ, which lay on the farthest southern continent, surrounded by murky green seas.

"WICKED-O, we're so WICKED-O-O-OH!" Aedan, Terry, Kien and Na'thin sang as the ship flew over the iridescent, stately towers and buildings of the beautiful city. Even the docking bays reflected the bright, shimmering atmosphere that changed color as it hit the light of the twin suns ––– gold, aqua, lime green, purple, yellow, and melting back into gold again.

Kan's eyes shone with admiration as he gazed out the window, mesmerized by the soothing display of colors. How he would just _love _to live here, if he were a civilian, and not a Jedi student. Even his often withdrawn Master seemed to notice her surroundings and enjoy the vivid landscape.

The only ones who did not seem to care about the planet's dazzling beauty were the grumpy Minir Voss and Andora Kenobi. Backs rigid, shoulders erect and staring straight ahead, they both looked more like statues than living human children. It seemed unnatural for two kids to be so _serious._ Andora's nose twitched involuntarily as Aedan pranced around her chair.

_That's one happy family, _Kan thought, watching as the twins exchanged looks of disgust. He didn't voice his thoughts aloud, however. It wouldn't do to cross the Kenobi twins' path. He had had plenty of experiences like that. And none of them had turned out well.

Zylxx was an average-sized planet that shared its orbit around the suns, Sy and Leeto, with its twin, Zyzywlvlv. The planet was virtually a wasteland ––– the only things that could thrive on its surface were cities, miners, businesspersons and a few sparse wildflowers. Though the planet's beautiful color seemed welcoming, it was far from lush, as the planet was continually assaulted by fierce atmospheric storms. Its main industries were basic materials for plastoid that were mined in the mountains. Produce, especially fresh fruits and water, were shipped from the abundant Kiyp asteroid belt surrounding the system.

The blood-red Sy had already set, and Leeto was low on the horizon, when they finally docked in a public bay. The Queen had requested that they land in her own private hangar, but Adriaan had different ideas.

"This isn't an undercover mission," she explained as she slung her survival pack across her shoulder. "The people here are getting desperate. They need to see with their own eyes that the Jedi have arrived, along with reinforcements. Keep your lightsabers visible so that the public can be assured. Now, let's take a walk to the palace like good kids, okay?" She looked hopefully at the Wicked Club.

They glared at her. "GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD!" they chanted in unison, pointing accusingly at her. "We NOT GOOD kids! We WICKED!"

"Let's take a Wicked walk then," Adriaan said. "We all need a chance to stretch our legs after that long flight, right? And it is necessary to alert the populace of our arrival. Of our WICKED arrival."

She stepped down the ramp jauntily, as if eager for the mission to begin. She _was_ eager for it to begin! Kan had been so worried that she hadn't really cared about it ––– he had lived in mortal dread that she would never even try to form a Master/Padawan bond with him. She had seemed so reluctant to leave, but perhaps that had all been on account of Aedan. Well, she had shown him. She _did _care about her Apprentice.

She beckoned for Kan to follow, a smile playing around her lips. "C'mon, Kan," she said. But as she said it, Kan saw her stiffen, as if suddenly alerted of something.

Just then he caught sight of a Nebula official marching toward them, his rainbow plastoid armor glinting in the dulled red light of the setting suns. Immediately, Adriaan straightened her relaxed posture, her face taking on a businesslike expression. She was supposed to be a seasoned Jedi commander. She had to look it. Her gaze appraised the guard cooly, her icy blue eyes sweeping up and down his stiff military figure. Glancing sidelong at the Zylxxian, Kan could tell that the Nebula soldier was doing the same thing to Adriaan.

Kan wondered what the Zylxxian was thinking about what he saw ––– no doubt the guard was not impressed with Adriaan's physical appearance. She completely defied the look of a true warrior. Her face was too young, too smooth ––– her mouth too inclined to turn up at the corners, and her nose had that impertinent, rounded look. Though her eyelashes weren't long or very dark, they were noticeable. And her deep blue eyes looked too innocent. Most likely the officer was assuming that either she was an ignorant, brash tourist with a taste for visiting enemy-plagued worlds, or she was an escaped criminal.

Then the officer spotted the lightsaber hilt, flaming silver upon the dull black leather belt. His gaze assumed a more respectful expression as he looked back up at Adriaan. "Commander ell Talaan," he said, bowing slightly. "We did not expect your arrival to be so ––– timely."

Adriaan returned the bow. "I understand that we were expected at the palace hangar, but we felt it necessary to inform the Zylxxians of our presence. Now, officer, could you direct us to the palace gates?"

He caught the crisp tone in her voice, which clearly implied that she was not in the mood for argument. "This way, Commander," he said. "I will escort you there myself. I know the way well."

"Thank you, um, Officer –––?" Adriaan began. "I'm sorry, but you did not inform me of your name."

"The officer saluted. "Captain Zy'ag of the Nebula Guard."

"Well, Captain Zy'ag," Adriaan said, pronouncing his name clearly, "we appreciate your generosity, but we wish to take the opportunity to get a ––– shall we say ––– a_ feel_ for this city on our own."

"We have maps, Commander, if you insist –––"

"A few basic directions will do, Zy'ag."

Then Aedan spotted the violet swoopbike that was parked just behind Zy'ag.

"WHOOPEE!" he screamed, knocking over Zy'ag over in his excitement. "WICKED!"

Without warning, Aedan barreled past his astonished Master and leaped aboard the swoop, eager to miss out on the long trek through the city. Powering it up, he zoomed off. Unfortunately, he was headed –––

Straight for them.

"WICKED!" he yelled.

With a cry, Adriaan pushed herself and the rest rolling out of the way of the deadly vehicle. It roared past them, Aedan's voice slowly fading away as he screamed out one last lingering "wicked"

His Master was the first one to recover. Haughtily picking herself up, she brushed the dirt off the front of her tunic. Zy'ag sat up shakily.

"That boy…will…be retrieved by the…guard…immediately," he gasped out. "An outrage! Disrespect to his commander, deserting the army _and_ stealing a swoop owned by the Nebula Guard! We will not tolerate this act of impudence!"

"Oh, relax, Zy'ag," Adriaan said in a cool, deep, soothing voice. "I take responsibility for him. He is my one of my Padawan learners. I'm sure he'll return the swoop. Leave it to me. I'll find him. And you will be recompensed for the inconvenience of walking back to your station, I'm sure."

Zy'ag glowered at her and stomped away, still muttering. "Got to flag down an airtaxi…such an outrage."

Adriaan let out a long sigh and looked at Kan. "Let's go," she said, starting to walk. The rest followed, lead by the steady guidance of the capable Andora.

Seeing that the Wicked Club was being monitored, Kan ran a few paces ahead so that he could walk beside his Master. His steps fell in time with hers as they continued down the street.

"Actually, the reason I wanted to walk, without an official guiding us, was something more than showing the Zylxxians that aid has arrived," she said after a moment, as if they had been having a conversation that had been interrupted a few minutes before. She spread out her arms, indicating the expanse around her. "What do you see, Kan?"

It was a drill, of course. Even on missions, Masters had to teach. One of the most basic of Temple exercises that Kan had learned was to memorize even the tiniest detail on, say, a rock wall, within only a space of a few seconds of observing. This was supposed to help the Apprentices in rapid memorization, the _seeing without looking _technique.

He gave himself a few spare moments to observe the scene before answering. "We are on a central walkway suspended above five levels," he said. "Business district. A tailor shop on the right. A seedy-looking café wedged between a deli and a pet shop. The "C" in "Coranni's Café" is shorted out. A holonet newscast is posted above the deli. It is broadcasting a pro-laserball game. The Naboo Aquahawks have a twenty-seven point lead on the Felucian Acklay's home-field. The Aquahawks have the ball on the first and ten. Sha'on Ale'wicked in running for it…"

"WICKED!" the Wicked Club, who were big Aquahawks fans, yelled. "GO WICKED Aquahawks!"

"There are a variety of beings on the street ––– Twi'leks, Troikens, Zylxxians, and the like," Kan continued. "All of them are traveling in groups. The majority of beings are young children with families. Their clothes are dirty and ragged, and all of them have some sort of weapon displayed."

"That's fine," Adriaan said. "But you're beginning to sound like a computer. Anything else?"

"A swoop with an orange hull is approaching us at a rate of five-hundred meters per second. It has passed us. The pilot is an Ithorian male, approximately two meters in height. The license number on the vehicle is 51MN0747. The street we are walking on is made of a highly durable compound of –––"

"Enough," Adriaan said, half-laughing. "I know how it_ looks_. What do you _feel _about this planet?"

Kan thought for a minute. He looked around again, this time seeing through a completely different perspective. He watched as a young male and female Zylxxian with two toddlers and a baby scurried past, hoods drawn low over their faces. But they could not escape Kan's probing gaze. He stared into their faces; looked into their eyes, trying to rout out an emotion, a feeling.

"The people look like fugitives, of course," he said. "Their appearance proves that. But something in their faces…something more than a war is going on underneath. They feel unstable."

Adriaan nodded. "I can feel it," she said. "The dark side is here. They are afraid."

They turned at the end of the street and found themselves on a repulsor-lift ramp. As the platform bore them upwards, his Master turned to look at him. "Do you see what I'm trying to show you?"

"Yes," he said. "We came at the right time. The people look like they can't take any more."

"Yah," she agreed. "They are desperate, homeless, doubtful of their futures, and hungry at the present moment. All those cafés and cantinas were shut down ––– didn't you notice? But this is only part of what I wanted you to see."

Her voice dropped off into silence for several minutes. The ramp stopped at the top level, and they filed out. Up here, free from the oppressive city atmosphere, the air seemed fresh and clear, and the setting suns seemed to shine brighter. They were in the highest district ––– the royal neighborhood, which was a vast assortment of fine villas and endless mansions. They were the domains of only the best of the Zylxxians ––– politicians, rich executives, and of course the Zylxxian Court. It was the finest the planet had to offer. It was beautiful, yet Kan still felt the strong dark cloud of terror hanging over it. Even the highest could not escape from the hunger and fear lurking in the sublevels.

"My feet need to know the streets they walk on," his Master said suddenly. "I like to get down to the people's level, down to the surface, instead of going straight to the top of society. I need to know the people, the pattern of the city, so that without even thinking it through, my instincts can direct me down the right pathways."

Kan raised an eyebrow. "You could use a map –––"

"True," she said, sidestepping a sshryk lizard basking in the middle of the walkway, "but maps aren't reality."

They passed a street vendor that was baking hot veg turnovers and selling cartons of Jawa juice chilling in a cooler. Even though it was early evening, the day was still very hot, as the warmth from the suns that had seeped into the streets earlier in the day were now rising up into the atmosphere. The tantalizing, savory odor of baking turnovers, and the vision of drinking the cold cartons of juice made his mouth water with hopeful anticipation. He hadn't eaten anything since last night, and the assault ship's galley had a disgusting menu anyway. He stared with longing at the vendor as they strode past.

"See," Adriaan said, as if she had been reading his mind the whole time, "would a map have told you that street 257G had a vendor that sold delicious turnovers and ice-cold Jawa juice boxes?"

Kan nodded, understanding finally dawning upon him. _But, _he thought, _we could've skipped the walk and come right to the point: A map is not your destination._

"A chart or a map doesn't tell you that house A00675 hosts a band of criminals, or that the crack in the road on alley 2146 hides a ten-meter duracrete slug, either," Adriaan continued. "Hey, look what we have here now."

Now he noticed that they had reached a tall, barred security gate that was blocking the road. A holo-sign was hung over the gate, yet Kan couldn't read the choppy dots and lines that made up Zylxxian characters. He gave up trying to decipher the message, letting his gaze wander over the sign until it came to rest on…

Aedan.

"Hello, slimy, sweaty gorgs," he said cheerfully.

"Hello," Jahn Pal said.

"We are NOT GOOD, sweaty, slimy gorgs," Terry, Kien, Na'thin and Minir protested. "We WICKED!"

Adriaan's attitude turned nasty. "Don't you know that the penalty for committing a grand theft of a Zylxxian patrol speeder is a minimum of seven months in prison? Why did you do this? Everything was going fine until you, just on the spur of the moment, took off screaming through the alley, nearly running over your own club, including myself, Kan, and the guard. What were you thinking?"

Aedan shrugged. "Can't be helped. Walks are for fat GOODS."

"Me fat," Jahn Pal said.

"Oooh, amazing Jahn Pal," Sai'wer said. "Me fat too."

"We're not fat GOODS," Minir grumbled to himself. "There were just no other speeders to WICKEDLY borrow."

Adriaan rolled her eyes. "Moons and stars, I'd rather be pulverized than stick with these slugs," she muttered.

She roughly brushed past Aedan, striding purposefully up to the gate. A Nebula guard stationed there snapped to attention.

"Business and identity," he barked.

In answer, Adriaan activated her lightsaber. The sentry stepped back, startled. Obviously he wasn't expecting a Jedi commander to look so young. They were expected, however, for then he saluted respectfully and punched a code into the database. The gate swung open to admit the Jedi. "Welcome to the Zylxxian palace, sir, er, lord, I mean…"

"Master!" Adriaan snapped.

"Oh, uh, yes," the guard stammered, slapping his forehead, pretending forgetfulness. "How could I have forgotten, sir…Master. Welcome, welcome…"

Adriaan sniffed haughtily and swept past him, leaving his sentence unfinished. As Kan looked back, he could still see the guard, mumbling and shaking his head in confusion after them.

"Stinkin' bantha! A tusken raider could outsmart that black hole of a brain in a game of sabacc!" Kan heard his Master mutter under her breath.

"One question, Ree," Kan said as they continued on, "Why do all the Nebula guards I've seen speak Basic? I thought you said the natives can only speak Zylxxian."

"You forget," Adriaan said. "All the Nebula guards you've seen are human. The Zylxxians are an alien species."

"Oh."

They had long passed the gate by now and had entered a courtyard paved with iridescent stones. Kan squinted against the bright glare from the reflection of the suns in the pavement. Up ahead there was a low dun-colored building flanked with buttresses and vine-covered walls. A small flight of stairs led up to an open archway that was crowned with flowering ivy.

"Well, what do you think?" his Master asked.

Everyone stared at her. "Looks GOOD," the Wicked Club muttered.

"What is it? Where's the palace?" Kan asked.

Adriaan's eyebrows shot up. "This _is _the palace."

Just then a Nebula guard was seen approaching, marching at a fast, clipped pace down the flight of stairs.

Adriaan bowed in greeting. "My commander was supposed to alert you of our arrival. I understand that –––"

"Commander ell Talaan," the guard said, saluting stiffly. "Captain Zy'ag informed us of your arrival. Queen Hyrax of the Syleeto sovereign system commands your presence in the throne room. Immediately."

"I was not aware that I was _commanded _to appear before her Highness. We have already wasted much time. It won't be long before the enemy is warned of Jedi presence…"

"Then the CIS will just have to know and fear," the soldier said sharply. "The Queen wants to see you. _Now_."

"As you wish," Adriaan said calmly. "Now, will you direct me to the throne room?"

"This way."

Then he noticed the Apprentices behind her. "Commander," he rapped, "war is not a place for children, even your own offspring. It is a violation of Zylxxian law for an undeveloped being to infringe upon government affairs. They must be escorted off the premises immedia–––"

Aedan bristled. "We NOT undeveloped beings!" he yelled. "We WICKED!"

The guard stared at him cooly. "And animals are strictly prohibited also. Get that thing a leash."

"Me no animal!" Aedan shrieked. "Me WICKED Jedi!"

The Nebula took a step toward the boy, but Adriaan restrained him.

"Chill, soldier," Adriaan said. "These are not mere children as you suppose. These are Jedi Padawans, students, who are being taught the ways of the Force. They are skilled in the affairs of war. Furthermore, I disagree with the description you applied to these children. They are not my offspring; they are my Apprentices, and they will accompany me on all of my assignments, regardless of your opposition."

Aedan grinned and gnashed his teeth viciously at the guard in triumph.

The guard's mouth opened and closed as he stared at her with a wide-eyed, furious expression. Then, with a murderous look shot at Adriaan, he whirled around and marched back up the steps. "Follow me if you want to win this war, _Jedi_."

"One battle isn't a war, bud," Adriaan muttered as they were led through the archway and into a long, narrow corridor. There were doors on all sides, and separate hallways branching off into all directions. It looked slightly confusing, yet the guard seemed to know the way. He led them through the maze of corridors, twisting and turning in intricate directions until Kan's mind was all in a blur trying to remember the way. Even with his Jedi training, he doubted that he would be able to find his way out.

Finally, the Nebula trooper stopped before a durasteel door that looked identical to all the others they had passed, except that this one had an odd design carved across the lintel. As Kan craned his neck upward, trying to figure out what the pattern was, the guard punched in a code on the security pad next to the door. A small speaker slid out of a compartment enclosed within the pad, and he lifted it up to his mouth, speaking inaudibly into it. There was a buzz of static as the transmission was picked up. "Captain Epi'do?"

"Here, Officer," the guard said. "Jedi landed. Requesting admission."

There was crackle. "Permission granted. Come in."

Epi'do replaced the speaker, and the door slid open.

Captain Epi'do stepped through the door and bowed to someone inside. "Your majesty. Commander ell Talaan has arrived."

"Let him in," a clipped, boyish voice said.

Epi'do turned slightly and jerked his head at them. Adriaan stepped inside and motioned impatiently for Kan and the rest to enter.

The place they entered was more of a low, closet-like alcove than a room. Since there were no windows to let in light, it was very dimly lit by the light coming from the open doorway. As Kan peered into the gloom, he soon realized that Epi'do had not been speaking to the real Queen in person, as he had supposed from his position in the hallway. Instead, the Nebula had been relaying a message to someone by hologram, speaking into the security camera that was hanging on the wall, at the other end of the room. Below the camera there was a set of sliding double doors. A red indicator light beside the entryway indicated that the doors were locked.

Epi'do stepped away from the security cam's sights and faced Kan's Master. "Here at our sovereign system's capital planet, we Zylxxians have many traditions and precepts for court etiquette," he said. "Zylxxian culture revolves around proper behavior. Failure to meet the standards of our code of behavior in front of heads of government is penalty of physical obliteration. So follow my instructions carefully if you do not want to put yourself at risk."

The calm mask slid from Adriaan's face momentarily. " 'Physical obliteration'? You mean death!" she exclaimed. "Execution of an active officer without proper consultation with the Galactic Courts is a violation of Rule 207, Section 5 of the Code of –––"

"But it says here in the Zylxxian planetary Code of Laws that anyone who steps foot within Zylxxian grounds is subordinate to the laws of the planet, no matter how unfair he or she thinks them. And you have entered the court of Queen Hyrax, leader of Zylxxians, have you not?"

She stared at him, her eyes ablaze. After a moment, Kan saw her tense form relax in defeat. "So what does the stinkin' old book of proper etiquette say to do when you are going to have an audience before the little Zylxxian ruler?"

Epi'do looked ruffled by her mocking tone. "First of all, it is necessary for you to always remember to NEVER speak directly to the Queen, unless it is an emergency, or you are an active officer recruited in the Nebula Guard, or you are going to die anyway."

"Then how the heck am I going to talk to her?" Adriaan asked, visibly annoyed at having been defeated by a silly code of court traditions.

"You may speak directly to me, or to any present Nebula official, and they in turn can address the Queen and answer you for her. For once a ruler has been elected, they may never speak directly or appear before the public, except in private audience chambers, of course. This is a very well-thought of rule, for first of all the ruler will never have a chance to sway the minds of the people so that they will want to hand over all the power and elect him or her as Supreme dictator, but also because assassins and other such hotheads will not have the opportunity to take advantage of the crowds and attempt an assassination. So you see that we Zylxxians are very intelligent when it comes to making rules for the general welfare of our citizens."

_But that still doesn't stop ambitious officials from trying to assassinate the ruler, _Kan thought. He was beginning to get a good picture of Zylxxian society. _No wonder the people are so scared. They don't even know their figurehead for a Queen._

"Sure, intelligent," his Master said, hardly sounding convinced. "So is there anything else I must remember so that I don't lose my head?"

"Yes, there is much more that you should know," Epi'do said, oblivious to the sarcasm in her voice. "But unfortunately it is also part of court etiquette to never keep the ruler waiting beyond a time span of two minutes. Just follow my lead. Oh, and I forgot to tell you that weapons are strictly prohibited. We Zylxxians take precautions in everything so as to avoid any unpleasant situations. Your lightsabers, please."

Adriaan glared. "How dare you accuse a Jedi Master of attempting to assassinate your silly old Queen! We are keepers of the peace, and we have come to aid you in your dilemma. And here you are, treating us like prisoners! _I _for one absolutely _refuse _to subject myself to this treatment!"

"Me NEVER give away WICKED weapon to a GOOD!" Aedan added.

Epi'do opened his mouth to speak, but then just as quickly shut it again as a bell-like alarm sounded above their heads. "Commander, I hate to subject you to even further indignation but unfortunately our time period is at the two-minute mark. Failure to appear before the Zylxxian ruler at the proper time is a penalty of physical obliteration –––"

"Then we're going," Adriaan said, brushing past him and walking up to the double doors. "Wouldn't want to lose your head, would you, Epi'do?"

"Commander, court etiquette specifies that a Nebula guard must enter the throne room _before _the persons requesting the audience –––"

As Kan watched, the light on the wall slowly blinked from red, to pink, to orange, to yellow, and then finally flashed green in confirmation. The doors hissed open with a sharp clang, and rays of sunlight suddenly flooded the room. Speakers blared loudly in his ears as Kan's eyes adjusted to the unaccustomed light. "Jedi Commander ell Talaan of the one hundred and seventh legion of Republic forces has requested an audience with Queen Hyrax, seven thousand, two hundred and ninety-eighth ruler of the Syleeto sytem."

Adriaan stepped aside and looked at the confused Captain. "After you, Epi," she said, bowing mockingly. "Wouldn't want to have Kouhun poison in your next mug of grog, would you?"

Epi'do glared at her. "We Zylxxians come up with subtler ways of disposing incompetent beings," he said ominously. He turned on his heel and marched through the doors.

Adriaan grinned at Kan. "Well, should we go in or should we risk the wrath of the terrifying Zylxxians?"

The Wicked Club grinned. "Risk the wrath! Risk the wrath! Risk the wrath! Risk the wrath! GOOD!"

"We should not insult the good, helpful Zylxxians who have remained loyal to the Republic for over two centuries…" Andora said.

Out of Andora's sight line, Adriaan rolled her eyes. "Andora is right, Padawans," she said. "Let's get going. We shouldn't go over our two-minute grace period, should we?"

"Me go over GOOD two-minute grace period," Aedan piped up.

"We stay here with WICKED King," Terry, Kien, Minir and Na'thin shouted.

"Ooh, don't leave Sai'wer and cute little Jahn Pal all alone," Jahn Pal whined. "Me want to see pretty queen."

"Me, too," Sai'wer agreed.

"GOOD idiots," Aedan said. "You will obey your WICKED King and stay where you are."

Jahn Pal and Sai'wer's eyes filled with tears. "No, we want to see pretty queen…"

"Oh will you just shut up?" Adriaan asked. "This is all useless arguing, because regardless of what you guys want to do, you are going to march into that throne room with me, and you are going to keep your hands at your sides and your mouths shut."

"Me NOT keep mouth shut!" Aedan said. "Me shout in silly Queen's ear! My mouth big and WICKED!"

Adriaan bent down so that she was at eye level with Aedan. "Well, you know what?" she said to him. "I am older than you, and I am your Master, and I have a mouth as big and loud as yours, and I am just as stubborn as you. So you _will _obey me and stay at my side at all times. If you do not, when we return to the Temple I will contact the Council and tell them that you are too GOOD to become an Apprentice."

The Wicked Club gasped in disbelief. Aedan's mouth was only a thin, hard line as he stared at her for several moments. Obviously none of them were used to a Master threatening them in that way.

Finally, Aedan shrugged. "Me go into WICKED throne room to see GOOD Queen."

"WICKED!" The Wicked Club shouted.

"But only because I decided that it is a WICKEDLY necessary thing to do," Aedan added.

Adriaan exchanged smiles with Kan. They both knew that Aedan was too proud to really admit why he was obeying Adriaan. Aedan always went along with the person who held the money bag. Still, it was a first for him to actually listen to a Master.

Suddenly, the indicator light on the wall switched from green to yellow. It began to beep persistently as the light began to blink in alarm.

"Looks like we're breaking the rule that states a ruler must not be kept waiting over a span of two minutes," Adriaan said. "Let's get going before Epi'do fries us on skewers."

"Not fried," the Wicked Club protested. "NOT on skewers! NOT GOOD! We W-W-W-W-I-I-I-I-C-C-C-C-K-K-K-K-E-E-E-E-D-D-D-D!!!!"

She rolled her eyes at them. "Stars and galaxies, don't you know sarcasm when you hear it?"

"No," they answered.


	6. Queen Hyrax & Court Etiquette

** chapter 6**

The throne room was more overwhelming than Kan had imagined. As the Jedi stepped out onto the tiled floor, the same iridescent color as the Nebula armor, he felt the heavy weight of so many stares upon him. The Court was rather large compared to the other rooms Kan had passed through, and unlike the pitch-black waiting room, the court was an open space filled with sunlight coming in through the transparisteel roof over them. The murmuring of foreign voices, the soft tinkle of fountains, and the sound of the Jedi's boots thudding upon the cool stone were the only sounds that he could hear echoing across the space.

He peered over the broad back of Epi'do, straining his neck as he tried to catch a glimpse of the Queen, but it was all to no avail. After they had gone into the Court a few paces, the Captain suddenly came to a halt and bowed down to the floor. Kan looked quizzically at Adriaan. She shrugged and quickly bent her head in a short bow.

They continued another couple of steps, then bowed again. Kan was beginning to feel a little silly, walking so slowly across the floor and then bowing so that his face touched the ground every few steps. Did the Queen like to see her people crawl upon the floor like slaves?

Finally, Epi'do halted before a small flight of steps and fell upon his face. "Long live Queen Hyrax, seven thousand, two-hundred and ninety-eighth ruler of the Corporation of Syleetoians. Fairest Oh Mightiest of Highnesses, Jewel of Zylxx, daughter of the Twin Gems, Loveliest of Twi'leks, Oh most Intelligent One…"

"Oh, just shut up, will you and get on with the audience, Epi'do?" the sharp, boyish voice that Kan had heard just a few minutes before, when it had been addressing Epi'do by comlink, now said to the Captain. "And get off your belly and look at me like a man."

Epi'do leaped to his feet and saluted smartly. "Forgive me, oh Magnificent Jewel from the heavens…"

"Step aside you idiot so that I can see them."

Epi'do obediently moved to the side, allowing Kan to see the ruler.

Hyrax was not what he had expected her to be ––– a stern, excessively mature human girl, much like young Andora, was what he had imagined. Instead, he was face to face with a Twi'lek female, who had a young, rounded face and big, scared-looking brown eyes that stared at him half-fearfully and half-defiantly. She was dressed in a gaudy, multicolored, sept-silk robe that fell down around her small feet in endless folds of color. Adorning her head was a big, heavy, feathered, ridiculous-looking headdress that made her pink lekku, or head-tails, stick out at the sides. Her face looked strained, as if she were being forced to go through with this whole ordeal; her only hope of it ending soon. She hardly looked comfortable, or queen-like, all done up in such an impractical fashion.

"Captain Epi'do," she said, her rough voice echoing through the space, "Tell Master ell Talaan that I was informed by Master Windu that he had recruited a seasoned Jedi warrior to take command of my troops, not a young human girl with a herd of children at her heels."

"We're WICKED!" the Wicked Club informed her.

"They say that they are wicked," Epi'do said to the Queen.

Adriaan looked amused. "Ah, your Majesty, as an eight-year-old girl is Queen of an entire system, so is a sixteen-year old girl a Jedi warrior. These are hard times that demand many young people to replace their seniors."

Something pinged inside his head when she finished speaking. _I distinctly remember that when I first met her, she said that she was eighteen, not sixteen. Was she lying to me?_

_ "You're overreacting. She probably meant eighteen. Maybe she just forgot her age for a second."_

_ But Adriaan wouldn't forget something like that._

_ "How do you know?"_

The Captain shot Adriaan a warning look that clearly said, _don't address our ruler if you want to live through this._

Apparently the Queen did not catch that Adriaan had addressed her directly, for Hyrax nodded, acknowledging the Jedi's point. "But Epi'do, Commander ell Talaan must not pretend to forget that I had given explicit instructions for her to land in my private hangar. With over ninety-nine percent of our spacecraft either off-planet or demolished by crazed mobs, it isn't safe to leave your ship unprotected. It's probably on its way to the Core by now, if the crowds haven't fought over it until it deteriorates into a useless pile of junk."

Adriaan's cheeks were flushed. "Thanks for the warning."

"The Queen says that you are welcome," Epi'do said loudly.

"The Queen is not absent or dumb, Captain," Adriaan said. "She can speak for herself."

"Ah, I fear you have forgotten that Rule two-hundred and seven of the Code of Behavior states that an unauthorized being may never, at any time, directly address the ruler of Zylxx, except in times of –––"

"Epi'do," the Queen interrupted. "I fear that you have forgotten that Commander ell Talaan is active officer in the army of the Republic –––"

"Your Majesty," Epi'do said respectfully, "rule two-hundred and seven also states that an active member of the _Nebula_ Guard alone is authorized to speak to the ruler of Zylxx. A being enlisted in an army other than the Nebula, even the army of the Republic, is no exception."

Hyrax's mouth turned down into an irritated pout to show that she was displeased. Nevertheless, she could not change rules that were centuries old. Now Kan realized fully who truly held the power on the planet ––– it was not the people, or young Hyrax, who was no doubt being maneuvered like a puppet on a string ––– it was the Nebula officials. The Syleetoians weren't a sovereign government; they were an oligarchy.

"Very well," Hyrax said, dismissively waving her hand at her stubborn advisor. "Tell Commander ell Talaan that she must forgive my assumption that I was expecting the Jedi to send me a full-grown, seasoned male warrior, and not some half-grown girl and her Apprentice, as I had supposed her to be at first."

"Apology accepted," Adriaan said before Epi'do could repeat the message. "I am not offended. I get comments like that a lot. Beings expect the Jedi to be a bunch of battle-scarred, hardhearted men, but many of our best Jedi are women, and the majority of us are merely Padawan learners. As us Jedi always say, 'Don't judge by appearances'"

A murmur ran through the court, as beings smothered with frills and jeweled rings, rustled in their shimmersilk robes disapprovingly. Again, this insignificant blond human girl had defied Zylxxian etiquette, and this time, it was obviously intentional. The light, elegant atmosphere suddenly turned hostile as the whole court surged vehemently toward the center, where Kan's Master stood in a careless posture, impatiently shuffling her feet from side to side.

Epi'do cleared his throat ominously. "Ahem, I fear that Commander ell Talaan has forgotten that she is no longer on her homeworld, where in the astoundingly polluted and crowded landscape, there has been a complete lack of appreciation for a cultured and well-bred life, and so, billions are denied the privilege of ascending into a more civilized, higher status in echelon."

"In other words," Adriaan said, placing one foot on the first step leading up to the throne, "you are giving a euphemism for 'you are a culturally ignorant, uncivilized, low-life, impoverished being with no hope of ascending to anything even close to my status of greatness', right?"

"Not in such boiled-down terms, Commander. I was not attempting to offend you. You see, we Zylxxians take great pride in polishing our speech. Their are so many low-living beings in the galaxy that are not highbred. We hope to correct that by setting a good example."

"How nice," Adriaan muttered sarcastically.

"Yes," Epi'do said. "We Zylxxians are very beneficial to the rest of galactic society. Perhaps while you are here you may be privileged enough to observe some of our fine arts. As you may have noticed, we excel in stonework, and our architecture is especially good…"

"Epi'do," Hyrax interrupted graciously, "perhaps now would be an excellent time to change the subject and turn to the more important matters at hand."

"And speak in simpler terms if you please," Kan's Master said. "Sparkly, debonair, glamorous speech is fine enough, but it is better to make decisions by speaking more plainly. I fear you Zylxxians may be too aesthetic to have ever been very belligerent."

Again, Kan felt his cheeks burn as the entire Court turned to stare with hostility at the Jedi. His Master was not off to a good start with these beings.

Hyrax drew herself up with dignity. "Inform Commander ell Talaan that it is a good and righteous thing to be part of a society that has remained benevolent and law-abiding for over half a century."

"Inform the Queen that I was not accusing Zylxxians of being inactive. I meant it as a compliment."

"Commander ell Talaan apologizes for her assertiveness," Epi'do called out.

Adriaan bristled. "I was _not _being assertive you lumbering Ikopi sleemo…" her voice trailed off into Huttese.

Kan sighed. Nothing was happening. All Epi'do and Adriaan were doing was bickering. And the Queen was just one helpless little pawn that was right in the middle of the argument. It seemed hopeless.

Suddenly, Andora elbowed her way through the mob of Wicked Club members, till she came to a stop at the top step leading up to the throne. No one yet noticed her ––– Epi'do and Adriaan were too busy arguing, and the Court was too engrossed with the interesting proceedings of the audience. No doubt they were hoping that the whole thing would end with Adriaan getting thrown into prison…or worse.

Andora cleared her throat several times, politely waiting for someone to acknowledge her. Kan coughed a few times, trying to call their attention. But it was no use. Adriaan and Epi'do were going at each other like Nek battle dogs. By now they were only a few centimeters from each other, and it looked at any minute that one of them was going to draw their weapon.

"Rule five million, two hundred and fifty-six of Zylxxian code of behavior states that an officer that is not recruited in the Nebula guard is not authorized to rebuke an a Nebula recruit, even if he is a lower ranking officer than the one rebuking him –––"

"Well, rule number five hundred and fifty-six of the universal code of survival states that if a being does not wish to be in spasmodically combusted than he or she must take care never, in any way, accidental or on purposefully, ignite malevolence in a Jedi," Adriaan seethed.

"Commander, rule fifty-six of the Zylxxian Code of Behavior also states that any Jedi within Zylxxian territory is subjected to a fine of ten thousand credits for misconduct before Nebula officer, no matter what rank or current political status…"

"Sleemo! Bantha poodoo!" Adriaan yelled in Huttese. "_Zi uni'yalway cree cree myona opi kre onu yee yee x nee x x x wee yu cayon mayru x'youli x x x_…"

Epi'do's face turned from purplish-black to chalk white in astonishment. "_Cun'd'ai uni payron Jeedee_?" he asked.

"_X'ya_," Adriaan said.

Epi'do's mouth fell open. "The human child can speak in the native tongue!" he exclaimed.

"_May'x x x uni, Jeedee_," Adriaan said. "Of course I speak Zylxxian, don't you?"

He stared at her for several moments. "I understand Zylxxian, but us human civilians speak a dialect, as we have always believed that speaking the native tongue with our primitive vocals is virtually impossible. Now I see that in all of these years, we have been wrong, for once."

"WICKED!" Aedan said. "We are in the same ship! Us WICKEDS think the same! We are never wrong!"

"A teenage, human, female warrior that speaks Zylxxian," Hyrax murmured. "A group of little children that know the ways of war. The Jedi are better than they say."

Then the Queen noticed small Andora, who was politely standing before her throne, her head inclined in a respectful bow. "Who is this, Epi'do?"

He stepped up to her. "Your Majesty, this is one of the Jedi students tasked with driving the CIS from our beloved system, Syleeto. Commander ell Talaan here claims that she is the Master of these Apprentices."

"Indeed." Hyrax's dark eyes narrowed. "Well, I suppose that is not entirely odd. It can be no different from what I am, the child Queen of Syleetoians. Now, Captain, will you ask this Jedi Apprentice why she has approached me?"

"Captain," Andora said, retaining her stiff, military posture, "Will you please inform her Most Glorious Majesty that the humble Jedi initiate of Commander ell Talaan requests to have the floor."

Epi'do glanced sidelong at the Queen, who nodded in assent. "Her Highness grants permission. You have the floor."

Andora cleared her throat, for the first time looking slightly awkward. She was a child in a coarse tunic standing before a beautiful Queen bedecked in robes of many colors. No doubt Andora had never been in a situation like this before. "It is requisite that I prolifically ask forgiveness for the disorderly conduct of my most quintessential, if not slightly truculent, Master, who has been benevolent enough to take me under her invaluable tutelage. I ask of all Zylxxians, who are most solicitious and benignant in every way attainable, to take into cogitation her ephemeral petulance. I must inform you that her audaciousness stems from an unqualified enthusiasm to serve the people of Syleeto to her fullest. I assure you, it is not in her least intent to rile or give you cause to ire, and that it is entirely her objective to do her absolute best in defending your sublime planet."

Andora finished her speech, puffing a little from lack of breath. Silence settled in the room, as the Zylxxians contemplated the Andora's words. Suddenly the entire Court broke out in thundering applause, lauding the wise young Apprentice. Her cheeks flushed with pride, Andora bowed again to the Queen, then respectfully backed down the steps till she came back to her place, beside Kan.

"Well said," Epi'do commented. "Now, I suggest we follow the young Jedi's advice and turn to more pressing matters."

"Right," Adriaan muttered, "act like it was all your idea to talk about the war, Epi'do. Way to give Andora any credit. The pompous, vain _Ki'um d'ya meri ca ca sey_…"

"Epi'do," the Queen said now, "please lay out the facts we have to the Commander."

"Most of my troops are still aboard the assault ships," Adriaan said. "But I took the liberty to send a group to scout out the capital."

Epi'do nodded. "You did well. The Nebula have also sent scouts to stake out the stronghold, but all the reports came in negative. The whole thing is pretty much in lockdown, with at least fifty droids to a gate. I hope that your clones are as good as they say they are."

"They are," Adriaan assured him. "Has anyone contacted you from the concentration camps?"

Epi'do nodded. "We received one transmission, but the communication was cut off before the prisoner could tell us anything. However, we do know this: they are using our people to mine ore in the mountains."

"The CIS are _mining_?" Adriaan asked incredulously. "The Jedi Council told me that they wanted the plastoid materials for their armory, but why are they mining for it now, when they don't even have complete control of the planet yet? Why not wait until they also take control of the Kiyp belt too, so as to have the benefits of both plastoid and prismatic crystals, which is a necessary component of a blaster?"

Epi'do shrugged. "Perhaps they are already so low on supplies, that they cannot wait any longer for the materials to come in. But that is of little concern to us now. We will soon stop them, so there is little use worrying about it."

"You assume too much," Adriaan murmured under her breath. "Why are you so sure that we will stop them in time? The Republic is not invincible. Neither are the Zylxxians."

"Well, Commander, do you have any suggestions how we proceed?" Epi'do asked. "Or are you new to this kind of thing?"

Adriaan's eyebrows shot up, indicating that she could hear the sneer in his tone. Nevertheless, she was a Jedi, and she was not going to care about Epi'do thought about her. Let him think that she was a lily faced young girl. She would show him when the time came.

"Ah, I have a very good plan that my clone commander has revised with me," Adriaan said. "I fear that the CIS will not meet with unseasoned troops, Captain."

"Well, then," Epi'do folded his arms across his chest, "let us hear of your little 'plan'"

"Okay, my plan is based on two advantages that we have," Adriaan said. "First, we are much fewer than the CIS, but we are much more spontaneous and creative. The droids can only follow orders ––– they cannot give orders themselves. For the Separatists to score a victory, they need to stay the offensive and make us react to their moves. It's all a matter of having our own plan so that we are not reacting to their attacks all the time. Secondly, we also have the element of surprise, that is, if we get moving soon."

"That is not much to go on," Epi'do said grimly.

"Yes," Adriaan agreed. "Unless, of course, we have the third advantage."

"And what may that be?" Epi'do asked.

"The third advantage, of course, is knowing the area well enough to use the surroundings to our advantage."

"But you have just come to our planet –––"

"That's where the Nebula guard becomes a major factor for the outcome of this battle. Not like they weren't already major factors. With the aid of the Nebula, the Republic forces can utterly gain the upper hand."

Kan held his breath as Hyrax and Epi'do exchanged significant glances. Adriaan was trying to push a few buttons in the Zylxxians, hoping that with a few gracious remarks, their vanity and pride would manipulate them into letting her take command of the Nebula. It was a good maneuver by Adriaan, yet Kan was still worried that it may not serve to sway the stubborn-minded Zylxxians.

"How can we be sure that you will defeat the CIS with the Nebula?" Epi'do asked. "No one is completely invincible, not even us superior beings. Can you absolutely, without question, guarantee that you will have the victory?"

"No," Adriaan said honestly. "I will not lie to you. No matter what the odds are, there is always a chance of the weakest army conquering the strongest. Once, in my Padawan days, I and my Master were sent to a planet plagued by civil war, somewhere in the Outer Rim. One side was corrupted with greed, struggles for power, and overall, the belief that humans were superior to all other beings."

The Court gasped aloud with indignation.

"Never!"

"Humans superior to us? Preposterous!"

"Foolish life-forms! Did you kill them off?"

"Silence!" Epi'do roared. "Let the Jedi child speak."

"The other side was made up of the natives of the planet, humans who were not prejudiced against other species, along with a few alien species that had been enslaved by the other side, such as Twi'leks, Biths, Bothans, the usual. Well, the majority of humans on the other side were space merchants that just wanted the abundant A'Jula fruit crops that grew on the planet. They were not licensed citizens. The other side had all the agriculturists, the people who had lived there all their lives, the people who knew the area. They were much fewer and were poorly equipped compared to the space merchants. But they used their surroundings to their advantage. They were guerrilla fighters. The mission was very successful."

"Because the natives won, yes?" Epi'do asked.

"After one battle, the merchants decided that they were putting up with too much than they had bargained for. So they loaded their belongings onto their ships and left. The natives won with barely any casualties to speak of."

"But the CIS does not give up so easily," Epi'do pointed out.

"I was not comparing our situation to the mission I went on," Adriaan said. "I was merely demonstrating to you how the Nebula guard would be of infinite aid to the Republic forces. I know that the Chancellor would be most pleased to learn of the Syleeto system's unfailing loyalty and generosity."

"So what does Commander ell Talaan want of us?" Hyrax asked.

"Simply permission to become ––– temporarily, of course ––– a Nebula Commander."

The Court gasped. Epi'do's brows drew together darkly. "That, Commander, is a violation of the Zylxxian code of Echelon which states in rule two hundred and five, section two-dash-seven, that a foreign commander may not, under any circumstances, take command of Nebula forces, even if it is temporary. You must first attend the school of Nebula initiates, then, if you pass our extensive Nebula code of behavior, you will be allowed to be enlisted as a Nebula private in our army. If you wish to move up in rank, you must first enroll in the school of –––"

"But by then the CIS will have already taken over your beloved planet!" Adriaan exclaimed. "Don't you want me to drive them out for you?"

"Of course we do," Epi'do said patiently. "We have no love for droids that carry on matters of war. But you simply cannot ask for the highest position in Zylxxian society after only just arriving to our system twenty-four hours ago."

Adriaan looked crestfallen as she watched her brilliant plan dissipate in the blink of an eye. It seemed that it was impossible for Adriaan to do anything in Zylxxian society except enroll for garbage duty. But Kan had no doubt that even if she wanted to become a garbage girl, she would have to attend some school for trash etiquette. The Zylxxians took manners to the extremes.

"However," Hyrax continued, "Commander ell Talaan may work in correspondence with a Nebula Commander. She will not be formally in charge of the Nebula, but she will be allowed to advise the Nebula officer on how to proceed. That is the best we can offer her."

Adriaan jerked her head up so that her gaze met the Queen's gaze. "So which commander will I be working with?"

"Me," Epi'do said, but Hyrax interrupted him before he could continue.

"No," Hyrax said. "You are much too busy and important to put your life at such an unnecessary risk. My advisor Klamin will be working with ell Talaan, though only by comlink. I cannot risk sending any of my officers on the field; it would mean their ultimate death. Klamin will relay all the positions of the army to ell Talaan and direct you from here. He is an expert in computer technology, so he has figured out a way to hack into the Seps database from such a distance as this."

"I…see," Adriaan said hesitantly.

Hyrax touched a small silver button on the throne's armrest. "I'm glad that ell Talaan is considering this option. Klamin is a very interesting advisor. Most pleasant to talk to. And he is very knowledgeable, as he is a Zylxxian. Zylxxians, as you might have noticed, are the most intelligent beings in the galaxy. Does Commander ell Talaan agree?"

"Sure," Adriaan muttered.

Static buzzed on the other end of the transmission. Hyrax withdrew a small comm unit from a compartment by the button and held it to her lips. "Mai'un'deo? Send in Klamin J'Oli immediately."

"He's coming, your Majesty."

Hyrax slid the comlink back into its base and folded her hands regally in her lap. "Now, I suppose that while we wait for Klamin to extract himself from his duties, which are extensive, Commander ell Talaan would like some refreshment. I fear all this talking ––– getting to know each other ––– has made the room quite hot. Commander ell Talaan's face is flushed. She looks most unhealthy. What do you think, Captain?"

Epi'do squinted at Adriaan. "Ah, I agree with you, my Lady. Her complexion has become the shade of your Most Radiant Skin, I think."

"And your complexion is the shade of a bloody rancor," Adriaan said to him tartly.

"Ah, the Commander is attempting to be poetic," Epi'do remarked sarcastically. "How sweet."

Adriaan opened her mouth, but then seemed to change her mind. An icy mask seemed to slide over her face as she clamped her jaw shut stubbornly.

"Speaking of sweet," Hyrax said, "I think a few glasses of iced Acaila juice would be splendid."

A Nebula private standing in a shadowed corner, behind the throne, nodded and scurried out a side door, as silently as a soft breeze upon the water.

A few seconds later he emerged with a repulsorlift serving tray filled with glasses of a bright pink juice. He hurriedly stopped before the Queen, bowed, and removed a folding table from under his arm. With great dignity, he unfolded it and set it before her. Carefully he arranged the crystal glasses on the table's surface. Then, bowing respectfully, he backed away to his original position, behind the throne.

"Ah," Hyrax said. "How lovely! Epi'do, a chair for the Commander, please."

A small black chair was brought forth, and Adriaan sat down in it awkwardly. Epi'do handed her a glass of the juice, and she hastily brought the cup to her lips and gulped down the beverage. As she hurried to replace the cup, Kan could see that her hands were shaking.

"Now," the Queen said, daintily sipping her juice, "would the Commander mind if the Queen asked a few questions, as to the benefit of the Court? You see, we of Syleeto so very rarely see a Jedi in our parts ––– as our government is most perfect and there has been no war, disease, corruption, or famine for such a long time, and as we are so capable of caring for ourselves without interference from the Senate, we have had no need of the Jedi until now. We of Zylxx wish to better understand this…unnatural religion you have."

Kan shot a glance at Adriaan. For a moment her eyes turned and locked on him. Her usually bright aqua-blue eyes were now mere slits of snapping fire. Her cheeks were aglow, and her brows were drawn together. It was no surprise that Adriaan was angry ––– many people spoke of Jedi as religious fanatics who worshipped an unseen thing that could be harnessed and used as a power only by the best. But this was not true. The Jedi did not believe that they were superior to other beings because of their connection to the Force. They valued each and every being as individuals ––– they did not value beings for what they could do. They valued them as beings who had the right to live. And the Force could hardly be called "unnatural" as the Force was what bound them all together.

As his Master turned to face the Queen, Kan held his breath, ready for the verbal assault that was sure to come.

"Ah, Epi'do, inform the Queen that I fear she is mistaken," Adriaan said politely. "You see, the Jedi are a motley group of all sorts of beings that share one common bond ––– the ability to use the Force. The Force is, in simple terms, what binds this galaxy together. No one could possibly live without it. So, you see, our 'religion' as you call it, can hardly be called unnatural, as our lives revolve around the Force. In fact, Life would never have come to exist in this galaxy without its presence."

"I must apologize, then," Hyrax said. "Rumors can get so garbled when they reach out here in the Mid-Rim. You are environmentalists, then?"

"No, we –––"

Just then the sound of the huge double doors as they clanged open drowned out whatever Adriaan's explanation was as the ear-shattering sound echoed across the space. Adriaan half-stood in her seat almost immediately, her arm knocking her unfinished glass of juice off the table. Glass shattered on the floor by her feet as the cup broke into a thousand pieces from the impact. Yet no one seemed to notice the damage; they had all turned to face the figure standing in the doorway.

"Ah, Klamin," Hyrax called pleasantly in her odd masculine voice. "You were able to extract yourself from your duties, I see. The Jedi Commander we sent for has arrived."

"Jedi Commander?" A deep voice snorted. "All I see is a human girl child. Hardly worth throwing in the dungeons."

Suddenly Adriaan leaped across the space and stood in front of the doors. Her hand flew to her utility belt like lightening, and the room was suddenly illuminated with the icy shaft of light emanating from the black hilt of her lightsaber.

The entire Court gasped in shocked dismay. The room seemed all in a whirl as Kan felt for the Force, slowing down time as he struggled to fully comprehend the situation. He watched as if in slow motion, Epi'do opened his mouth, drew his blaster and spread his feet wide as he stood in front of the Queen, shouting something that was obviously a curse at Kan's Master. The Wicked Club seemed frozen in time, staring at Adriaan with fascination as she spun around and held her blade in an offensive pose at the figure that Hyrax had called Klamin. Someone screamed and fired a shot at Adriaan, but she easily sidestepped it so that it pinged off the wall harmlessly. Kan ran across the room and skidded to a stop just a few meters behind her.

Adriaan turned slightly, still keeping her body facing Klamin. "Go back, Kan," she said. "This isn't Klamin."


	7. Enter Separatist Agent

** chapter 7**

"This is Joh-ma Kwel, one of the underdogs of the Viceroy of the Trade Federation, if I remember him correctly from my younger days," Adriaan said, squinting at the figure. "You haven't changed much, except in weight."

"Adriaan ell Talaan," Joh-ma said, stepping forward into the light, "are the Jedi spread so thin that they must send little whelps like you to foil my plans?"

"You are so unworthy of the Jedi's interest that they feel it only necessary to send little children to kill you," Adriaan retorted.

He clucked reprovingly. "Feisty as ever," he replied. "It will be my pleasure to see your head stuck on the tallest building in Zylxx once this battle is over."

"Commander," Epi'do called out. "Move aside so that I can get a clear shot at him."

"Peace, young soldier," Joh-ma said calmly. "I am not going to hurt you. I came to bargain with you."

Adriaan stared at him for several moments, then reluctantly deactivated her lightsaber. "He has a point. He's too much of a coward to come without some sort of bodyguard if he was going to pick a fight, anyway. What do you want?"

"What a wonderful way of introduction," Joh-ma said, starting forward. "Actually, I am here to negotiate with the Queen, and not one of her little army commanders."

Epi'do put down his blaster and motioned for Kwel to have Adriaan's seat. Joh-ma sat down gracefully, his multicolored robe swishing elegantly about his feet as leaned back in the chair. Now that he was in the light, Kan could see that Joh-ma was a male Weequay, standing just barely above a meter and a half. Sunken eye sockets with beady, reddish eyes stared maliciously about the room. The rest of his face was just hollowed cheeks, a knobby, bulbous nose, and a thin, hard line for a mouth. A black topknot adorned his wrinkled head, and an enormous crescent-shaped headdress completed his outfit.

"You must believe me when I say how lovely your city is," Joh-ma said with oily slickness, crossing his legs suavely. "Though the accommodations in Zy-yx-whatever-you-call-it are much better compared to here."

"Cut the gab, Joh," Adriaan said, standing over him. "What do you want from us?"

He picked up Hyrax's cup of juice with his gnarled hands, swirling the liquid around in the glass before bringing it to his lips. "You must not be hasty and skip the preliminaries, Ree. This is too enjoyable of a moment to pass. You see, Hyrax, with the CIS controlling about eighty-five percent of the planet, you would think that we would just crush the last fifteen percent under our thumb. We are more merciful than that. You see, we have an offer: you will be allowed to leave your system, along with the rest of your people, that still live. Not one of you will be harmed, as long as you promise never to return to Syleeto again. And all it takes is to sign a little paper."

"We of Syleeto would never consent to join such a malevolent and avaricious confederacy such as you of the CIS," Hyrax seethed.

"Of course not, Your Highness," Joh-ma said soothingly. "We would never be so demanding as to lower your dignity to such a low dimensions. No, our proposal is much more beneficial than that. You will leave with your lives, your loyalty, and your freedom, if you will only hand over your entire system and its contents to the CIS."

Hyrax stared at him, her eyes ablaze. "And if I refuse to sign your little treaty?"

Joh-ma shrugged. "Then we will simply use the data you had the inconvenience to leave behind, in the capital, to annihilate your civilization. I have thousands of droids back at my stronghold, and even more are stored aboard the hundreds of ships orbiting the Kiyp asteroid belt. You have two hours to decide. If you refuse me, I will order Actin 3 to be released."

Hyrax sucked in her breath sharply, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Joh-ma looked pleased at her reaction. "Yes, you heard correctly. Actin 3. I must be sure that the consequences are made very clear to you, so that if your choice is amiss…" he waved his hand dismissively. "…you will have only yourself to blame."

"What's going on?" Adriaan demanded. "Joh-ma Kwel, I'm putting you under arrest for harassment, trespassing, and violation of the Zylxxian Code of Behavior or whatever they call it…"

"My dear young Jedi, I fear that you must drop the last charge, for you are guilty of the same peccadillo," Kwel said. "Do you seriously think that I just dropped from the heavens a few minutes ago? You Jedi should know better. In a culture like this, when the most adrenaline-activating past-time is to watch two benign beings engage in a compellingly boring game of sabbac, security tends to be on the lighter side. Who notices a Weequay dressed in ceremonial robes, carrying a Merr-Sonn?"

Hyrax's usually pink complexion was chalk-white.

"Yeah right," Adriaan said. "What idiot of a guard would let a wrinkled old worrt for a Weequay in, if the Weequay was carrying a weapon that could melt a swoop into scrap metal?"

Joh-ma held up his hand, displaying the Merr-Sonn rocket that was strapped to his wrist. The laser homing system flashed as he pointed it at Adriaan's face. "A dead guard would," he hissed. "A guard that has been blasted into oblivion is in no position to protest if a Weequay with a Merr-Sonn wishes to enter."

"You're delusional," Adriaan said. "Even a Merr-Sonn cannot kill a Jedi so easily."

"Oh really?" Joh-ma swiveled the rocket so that it was aimed at Kan. "We'll just have to test your theory!"


	8. Blackout

** chapter 8**

Kan watched with horror as the tracking reticule on the rocket locked onto him. He knew that once that thing was launched, he would only have a few microseconds to get out of the way.

And for Kan, it took him more than a few seconds to get moving. Maybe he should've paid more attention during his Force speed lesson with Master Bultar Swan.

_You idiot, _he thought to himself, _what are you thinking? Haven't you proven on a number of occasions that you can slow down time with the Force? You did it just a few minutes ago. You can do it again. It's as simple as that._

_ "But it's not that simple. I can do it, yes, but it takes me awhile to gather enough energy for me to harness the Force and use it. I can't do it in a few microseconds."_

_ "Well, today is the day you will do it."_

He gathered it around him, sucking it up from the ground he stood on; the air that he breathed. He shoved it all inside him, feeling it enter into his very being as he stood and watched Joh-ma's hand slowly reach over and activate the rocket.

He sent the Force out, and as it surged forward, it seemed to blow Kan back, away, beyond time. He watched as in the clarity of slow motion, the Weequay was catapulted back by the blast as the Merr-Sonn was activated. Adriaan opened her mouth in a yell and charged forward, lightsaber aloft, toward the falling Kwel. There was an ear-shattering roar as the rocket was released.

Yet it never went far…

_BLAM!_

Suddenly the Force receded from him, seemingly leaving him in a vacuum as with a _whoosh, _he returned to real time.

A blast of heat singed his face as the rocket exploded a stomach-lurching twelve meters away from him. Using the Force, he catapulted himself backwards, away from the deadly fire. Members of the Court screamed and fell to the floor as sparks flew across the room. The smell of burning feathers, cloth, hair, and skin assailed his nostrils and seeped down into his throat as he crawled along the burning floor, through the smoke, towards where the throne had been. His heart was pounding in his head, beating out the words: _Adriaan. Aedan. Andora. Terry. Kien. Na'thin. Minir. Jahn Pal. Sai'wer. Please be alive. I can't bear to see another death…_

He saw a blond head on the floor, its small body sprawled across the iridescent tiles. _Aedan. Aedan. No._

Aedan opened his eyes, an impossible blue surrounded by a soot-covered face. "That Merr-Sonn was taking too long to kill you."

"Aedan, you're hurt…" Now Kan could see a long red gash that was running down Aedan's arm.

Aedan shifted restlessly. "Let me bleed. Me WICKED. Me deal with blood easy. That was fun. Me was laughing WICKEDLY when the Merr-Sonn was trying to GOOD you."

"What?!" Kan grabbed the boy by the shoulders. "You think that getting blasted by a thing that can melt a speeder is _fun_? You were laughing because a Merr-Sonn was being aimed at me? I could've gotten killed!"

"Of course." Aedan sprang to his feet, as if he had hardly gotten hurt at all. "If you were really GOOD, definitely you would have been processed into rancor meat. But you are WICKED. And so am I. And so is the rest of us. Even the silly GOOD Queen and her GOOD Captain. And even the WICKED man with the gun…"

Kan turned, and his heart leaped inside his chest as he made out the forms of his Master, the Apprentices, Hyrax and Epi'do through the clearing smoke. Though Epi'do, Hyrax, and the cousins looked shaken from the ordeal, Kien, Terry, Na'thin, and even Minir were grinning through their dirt-stained faces.

"What's up, WICKEDS?" Terry yelled in greeting.

"Wanta do it again?" Kien shouted.

"Hey, Kan!" Na'thin shouted. "Feeling GOOD?"

Minir suddenly realized that he was smiling, and he quickly turned his face down into a frown. "Hello, King WICKED of WICKEDS," he mumbled to Aedan.

Aedan came up and thumped him on the back. "Aw, c'mon, ol' Minir," he said. "What's a couple of GOOD bruises and bumps compared to the WICKEDNESS of us, the WICKEDEST!"

"I need a bacta bath," Minir growled.

"Yes, you do," Kien said, sniffing daintily. "You reek like a WICKED."

"Speak for yourself," Andora said. "You all stink. If I were your Master I would order you to the closest refreshing facilities pronto."

"Well, you'd need to come to the refresher, too," Terry said. "You smell like you've been GOODLY barbecued for a WICKED Krayt dragon."

Andora looked at him disdainfully. "It was not my choice to appear this way. At least I attempt to practice good hygiene."

"Yes," Na'thin said, rolling his eyes. "GOOD hygiene."

"Padawans!" Adriaan yelled. "Stop your bickering and acknowledge your benefactor please."

Andora turned obediently and bowed to Adriaan. "Thank you, Most Powerful Master," she said. "I am in your eternal debt. I was foolish, forgetting my training at so inopportune a time. I promise I shall not do it again."

Adriaan looked embarrassed. "Um, Andora," she said. "Sorry to interrupt your sweet little speech, but I'm afraid that you are addressing your thanks to the wrong person."

Kan looked at his Master quizzically. "What happened? I thought you went up with the blast."

"We would have," Adriaan replied. "But it just so happens that Joh-ma had dismantled the rocket and put it on quarter-power. No doubt he didn't want to risk killing himself in the process of shooting you down."

"But why did it explode upon activation?" Kan wondered. "I saw it all happen in slow motion, when I was using the Force. It was launched, but it must have backfired somehow."

"It didn't backfire," a masculine voice said. "I fired on it. Sorry; I didn't know that it would make such a big explosion. But so much for regrets."

A Zylxxian male emerged from behind the Queen. "I am Klamin J'Oli, Chief Advisor of Queen Hyrax."

"Ah, hello Klamin," Hyrax said. "I did not expect your arrival to be so timely."

He grinned. "Sorry. It is in my nature to be timely. On time for me is half an hour late for you."

Kan saw Adriaan's bright gaze go up and down Klamin's form as she analyzed him. No doubt she liked his physical appearance. As a male Zylxxian, he was tall, standing at about two and a half meters. Like the rest of the natives, he was long and thin with gangly appendages, that could stretch to a full twenty meters, attached to each joint. Two tentacles with gills, on either end of his face, provided a way of respiration, communication, and as a way of absorbing nutrients through the relatively thin atmosphere. Klamin was dressed casually, wearing a simple tunic and vest that were stained with grease. The tentacle on his right elbow was carefully balancing a common blaster pistol, the cause of the rocket's destruction.

Klamin noticed that some of the Apprentices were staring at his blaster with ill-disguised incredulousness. "Tweaked the partical beam," he explained. "I also changed the angle of the prismatic crystal slightly, to get a more intense bolt."

"But a rocket that powerful could only have been discharged by a blaster pistol only if you also boosted the volatile blaster gas," Adriaan pointed out.

"I did," Klamin said. "Cool, huh?"

Adriaan's piercing gaze swept across the room. "Joh-ma escaped."

"He couldn't have," Epi'do interjected.

"That projectile was too incendiary, even at quarter-power," Andora piped up.

"No," Klamin said, surveying the blackened walls. "He escaped. Even with the rocket exploding as close to him as it did, he could've survived. With all that smoke as a cover, he could have easily gotten out."

"But the guards…" Hyrax murmured.

Adriaan smiled grimly. "If Joh-ma was able to get in as easily as he said he did, he could just as easily get out. He said that your security was slack. Even your enemy can tell the truth, Hyrax." Kan's Master swiveled so that she was facing the Zylxxian. "But we can't assume anything. My instincts say that he is alive, but what makes you so sure that he got away, Klamin?"

He looked at her with an odd expression. "I don't really know. I just…feel it."

Adriaan's eyes narrowed. Kan could tell that she was picking up something from this Zylxxian, something that she apparently didn't like. As for himself, couldn't sense anything amiss…except that he was feeling slightly dizzy. And the floor seemed to be unstable. He caught himself as he swayed to the side.

_What's going on? Why is the floor rocking? Is this planet entirely stable?_

"…We'll have to move quickly before Joh-ma gives his report to the Viceroy," he heard Adriaan say.

"I have a bad feeling that he came here for something more then free target practice," Klamin said. "I'm gonna have to comb the Zylxxian Archives to see if he took something."

Kan's head spun, and he leaned against the wall for support as the room rocked. _Maybe I got hit harder by that Merr-Sonn than I thought, _he thought sleepily. His breath was coming in long, wheezing gasps. He felt like a fish that had accidently flopped out upon the beach. His legs felt like liquid as he struggled for breath.

"…If Joh-ma is alive, he'll need a way to get back to Zi'yx-zi-si-wi," Adriaan said. "Where do you keep your transports?"

Kan never heard what Hyrax said, for he suddenly lurched forward and fell to the floor.

"Kan!"

Black spots swam before his eyes as he collapsed upon the cool stone. Voices whirled over his head, but he was past hearing them now. He sank down into the deep darkness of dreams, where time had no meaning.


	9. Actin 3

** chapter 9**

If she had known that training an Apprentice would have been so hard on the heart, she would have never considered taking Kan on as her Padawan in the first place. Now she had fallen into a position she had never wanted: to worry and care for someone much younger than herself. She had never felt it before, nor had someone ever felt that way with her. Yet here she was.

_My Master had said that if I felt protective of someone, it would hold me back. What if he was right?_

She had been so worried when Kan had fallen to the floor, unconscious. At first she had feared that Joh-ma had somehow shot her Apprentice with a poison dart, causing him to be knocked out cold. When they had been unable to revive him, she had almost thought that he had died. She had been so paranoid about her Padawan's condition that she had been unable to reason that perhaps it was a result of being unable to adapt to the thin atmosphere, that her Padawan had fainted.

Now Adriaan paced the waiting room of the medical center, fuming with impatience. She had had a chance to catch up with Joh-ma, but she had been unable to use it to her advantage. She had been too anxious about the health of her Padawan, that Klamin and the Wicked Club had to start the search for the Weequay without her. She had gone to the medical center with Andora instead, waiting for the medical examination to be over and done with.

The medic entered the room, wiping his thin hands with a sterilizing Zylxxians didn't believe much in having droids carry out all the everyday tasks for them, so Adriaan was not surprised that the medical center's staff was composed mostly of the translucent-skinned Zylxxians.

"How is he?" Adriaan asked impatiently.

"The patient is overall in good physical condition," the medic said, rubbing his hands together. "Though he suffered some minor surface damage; second-degree burns, a few bruises, nothing you wouldn't usually see after a hit like that. He must have taken the explosion sidelong."

"Is that why he's unconcious? Is there any damage in any of his vital areas?"

"From what I could see, nothing was damaged internally," he said. "He has a cut on his face from falling down, but nothing more serious done to his head. No, I think the reason he went out cold was because his body was unable to cope with the shock of breathing in such a thin atmosphere. You are currently residents of the planet Coruscant, yes?"

"Our headquarters are stationed on Coruscant," Adriaan informed him. "Yes. My Padawan has lived on Coruscant his whole life."

"It is your homeworld?"

"No. Not my homeworld. But I know for sure that Kan, Aedan and Andora were born there."

The medic nodded knowingly. "Ah, it is no wonder that he fainted. The atmosphere is much more dense on Coruscant, no doubt because of pollution, than here on our beloved, clean world. It is a miracle that none of your other Apprentices have suffered the same side effects as the patient."

Adriaan glanced over at Andora, whose face looked much paler then usual. Adriaan was worried that Andora was suffering from the thin air, too. "Andora, can you breathe all right?"

The girl started and straightened. "Of course, Master," she said. "I am only a little wearied from the long trip, that's all."

Adriaan turned and faced the medic. "Do you carry any antidote that can temporarily treat lungs so that they can withstand the hostile environment? I think that we should treat the other Apprentices with it before another one collapses. Where is my Apprentice now? Is he awake? Will he be able to continue on with his regular duties?"

He shook his head. "I treated him with a homeopathic elixir that is helping boost his respiratory system. I can give you the antidote so that you can treat the rest of them. However, your other Apprentice, I'm afraid, is much weakened from lack of oxygen. He will not be able to continue his active duties for a week, at least."

For a moment, Adriaan almost felt like punching the guy in the mouth. But she controlled her desire to lash out. Instead, she stood very still as she let his words sink in.

_One week. A whole week without anything to do. I can't afford this. More people are being lost in the camps every day. But I can't just leave him here to rot in this medical center for an entire week, can I?_

_ "Aw, come on, Adriaan, you were just as young as he was when you did that solo flight to Correllia. And that time was for two weeks. Kan may seem little, but he can take care of himself."_

_ But I remember seeing him at the battle on Geonosis. He allowed himself to get distracted. That nearly cost him his life. It had killed his Master. If I leave him here, alone, unsupervised, who knows what I will find when I return?_

_"There are times, Adriaan, when you must step back and let others go ahead. If you stay here, there will be no one to lead the Republic troops. Remember what your Master said, 'Duty before love. Desire before caring. Your first responsibility is to me, the second, to your duty. The last of responsibilities is to your Apprentice. The Master teaches, the Padawan, in return, gives complete obedience and loyalty. That is all.' He is right, you know. He was always right, remember?"_

"He was wrong," Adriaan said aloud. "And he is wrong about this, too."

The Zylxxian looked at her. Underneath his translucent skin, Adriaan could see his heart thumping. "Commander? Are you breathing all right? Maybe I'd better treat you with that elixir…"

She shook herself. "No. I'm fine," she said. "I come from a volcanic world, so I'm used to hostile environments. I just need elixirs for all of the Padawans, please."

The medic looked pleased. "You are from a volcanic world? Very good. Did the Queen happen to inform you that we happen to have a couple of volcanos on our planet as well?"

Adriaan suddenly looked interested. "Volcanoes? No, she didn't tell me. Where are they?"

"In the Zywel-jic Mountain range," he answered. "On the North side."

"That would be to the east of Zi'yx-zi-si-wi, yes?" Adriaan asked.

"Correct. They were discovered just two months ago. As we Zylxxians do not travel frequently or very far, none have dared to trek so far through the mountains. They are located near the center of the range, between the tallest mountains on the planet, so it is no wonder that we have had no knowledge of them until now."

She felt the pieces clicking together in her brain. She had to struggle to keep her composure. "Is there anything else on these volcanoes that you know about?"

He looked evasive. "Hard to say. Rumors have circulated…"

Adriaan looked at him with her opaque gaze. "Surely someone with your intelligence level must have enough reason to guess what is true and what is not…"

She saw the change in expression almost immediately. How his eyes lit up with pride, how his thin lips curved in a conceited smile. He was just another one of those average beings whose tight lips could be softened by a passing remark, a trifling flattery. It was really too easy to put a being off-guard when you had large blue eyes and an innocent-looking face. Adriaan didn't entirely like the idea of being so deceptive, but she was out of any better ideas. It was harmless, anyway ––– she only wanted the information to help the Zylxxians ––– she was not going to use the information against his kind. All he had to do was cooperate.

He stared pointedly at Andora for a minute. She was sitting very quietly, her eyes on her boots. She hardly seemed a threat. He glanced around to see if anyone else was lurking around before leaning closer to her. "You are wise beyond your years, Little One. It is true that I have heard more than most people would think, and I have come to a few conclusions myself. The scientist who investigated these volcanoes happens to be one of my clients. He was injured while trekking through the mountains, so I was given the responsibility of tending to him."

"So what did he tell you?" Adriaan asked eagerly.

His brows drew together. "Nothing. He was tightlipped about the whole thing. As if he couldn't trust me. Some friend. However I _did_ happen to discover a few things that he didn't tell me."

"What?"

"Well, upon examination, I found more damage done to his body besides just a couple of broken ribs and strained muscles."

"Did he have burns? Bruises?"

The medic seemed to be enjoying the suspense thoroughly. No doubt he hadn't had a chance to tell anyone the info he had until now. "It was a very strange sight indeed to find contagious sores ––– sores that looked like they had been burned by some sort of harmful chemical ––– all over the body of a hiker, don't you agree?"

She felt the blood drain from her face. "Sores?"

He nodded. "Sores that had not existed until he had returned from his travels. Which is very odd, as he had been cut off from all contact of the rest of civilization for over three months. You don't get a disease by staying away from cities, eh?" he chuckled grimly. "Anyway, there was no curing it, so I let him go home."

"_You let him go home_?!" Adriaan asked incredulously. "But you said that it was contagious!"

"Of course. There is no danger. And anyway, there has been a significant increase in the Zylxxian population over the past decade. No doubt this has happened because here on our beloved world, we are immune to both war and disease. This disease will benefit us by eliminating all this unwanted access of beings."

Adriaan felt her stomach churn as she listened to him speak of killing beings as if they were no more than trees that needed to be cleared from a pasture. It made her sick to think that there were thousands of people in the galaxy like this medic who believed that the universe was overpopulated. It disgusted her that people didn't believe that beings were more then just skin and hair and clothing ––– because beings were much more than that. Every life should be valued, no matter how insignificant it seemed. It was despicable to kill. It was disgusting to think that one life would not make a difference in the galaxy. They had to think ––– what if they galaxies greatest leaders had been killed before they had ascended to their heights of power? What if the first Jedi had died before he had been able to fully command the Force?

"Every individual should be respected, doctor," she said to him. "Think about it: what if you had been exposed to a disease early in your life, so that you died? Then you would not be here to talk to me now."

He shrugged. "But that is different. This is me. I am not overpopulating my planet. I make up one person, not thousands. I am important. The less important need to go."

"But _everyone _is an individual, not just the high ones…"

"Then let them rot, one by one, if you consider them as individuals. You can't change my opinion, Young One. In my world, the only person that matters is the one that has enough credits to rub together in his pocket."

She shook her head, sick at heart. She knew that she couldn't change every being ––– but it still hurt her whenever she found that she was unable to convince someone. It felt as though she had failed to complete her duty. "Then if I cannot convince you, could you at least tell me what Actin 3 is?" she asked desperately, playing out her last card.

He looked at her sharply. "What do you know about Actin 3?"

"Only the name," Adriaan said. "But I was hoping to find someone whose brain holds as vast a store of knowledge and perception as you do."

She watched him closely, looking for a sign in his face that showed he was relenting. Even though she did not like the medic, he was an invaluable source of information to her. He had given her the missing pieces to the puzzle ––– she just needed to know one more thing.

Finally, he shrugged. "Okay, if you want to know, Actin 3 is a virus that we discovered in the volcanoes. What makes these volcanoes unique is that when they become active, they release Actin 3 instead of molten lava. Actin 3 is invisible ––– if you walk into the volcanic fumes, Actin 3 is immediately absorbed through the skin. Upon entering the being, the chemical begins to shut down all of his life systems ––– immune, digestive, excretory, respiratory, and the nervous system, until the being just ends up shutting down altogether."

"You mean he dies," Adriaan said.

He rubbed his hands together. "Exactly."

"And you know this because that is what happened to the scientist," she guessed.

"You could put it that way."

So that meant that the scientist, along with all the information he had collected, was out of the picture. "Did the Queen happen to get the information from the scientist before he died?"

The medic nodded. "He gave her a datafile with all the info he collected on it. Then she took it and hid it somewhere, probably in some immense, top-secret vault." He grimaced. "I never get enough credit around here. I am the personal medic of her Royal Highness, yet I'm not trusted with anything. If I perscribe a drug, even one as harmless as a natural herb remedy for a cough, it goes through the lab before Miss High-and-mighty can use it. It's ridiculous."

"Don't you like your Queen?" Adriaan asked. "Doesn't she pay you enough?"

He shrugged. "She's fair enough, but she doesn't have enough voice around here. She's an okay ruler, but it seems like its her Captain, Epi'do, runs the system around here."

Adriaan had already guessed that, but it was good to have her suspicions confirmed. She would have to look farther into Epi'do's background. And she also needed to see that datafile. These were things her Padawan could do while she led the clones to battle. Maybe him staying here wasn't such a bad idea after all. Then she wouldn't have to worry about him getting pulverized by Joh-ma's army.

Suddenly, the medic realized he had said too much. He stood up abruptly and backed off. "Well, I shouldn't be filing complaints to you ––– though you probably understand. But its not safe ––– I may be charged with treason for saying this. So if you don't mind –––"

She forced herself to smile disarmingly. "What you and I said isn't going to go beyond these walls," she assured him. "And I trust that you will do the same."

He started. "Of course, of course! Who would I tell anyway? I'm just an old man, trying to make my way in the universe…I'm getting too old. My bones ache. Need to go lay down…" He stumbled out of the room.

Adriaan and Andora looked at each other.

"How horrendous!" Andora exploded. "He spoke of beings as if they were chattel! How dare he –––"

"Hello, GOODS," a familiar voice said.

Adriaan turned around.

Klamin and the Wicked Club were standing in the doorway.


	10. The Chase: Part 1

** chapter 10**

The first thing Adriaan thought was: _okay, stay calm…can't tip him off that I know more than he thinks I do._

The second thing she mused over was: _How much did he really hear?_

Either Klamin was good at acting, or he knew nothing, for his face was opaque as he looked her in the eyes. Suddenly Adriaan thought that there was something odd about his face ––– something about his eyes. Then it hit her: Zylxxians' eyes had deep, black irises, and moon-colored pupils with flecks of green and gold in them. Klamin's eyes were totally different ––– they were dark, with black pupils. They looked strange…not Zylxxian, somehow…

_Does it really matter what color his eyes are?_

"Joh-ma?" Adriaan asked aloud, carefully pronouncing the question in Zylxxian.

Klamin shook his head. "There was no sign of a break-in at the hangar," he reported in his strange, clacking tongue. He threw himself upon the couch and crossed his legs as he set them with a _thunk_, on top of the table. "I think he's trying to play dead for a while."

"But he isn't dead," Adriaan said. "I know he isn't; that explosion wasn't hot enough to totally obliterate a body. He's small. He can fit in most places, in places we think he can't, even with that headdress on."

Klamin shrugged helplessly. "It is more complicated than you think it is. This place may seem small, but its got a whole network of tunnels down under the surface. It's so huge that not even us Nebula venture through the tunnels very often. It is entirely possible that he is just hiding in one of them."

"Yes, that is Joh-ma, all right," Adriaan agreed. "I've clashed with him in the past, back when he was working for some big-time space pirate corporation. He's a creepy creature. Not fun to deal with. He has a laserwhip, too." She grimaced. "And moons and stars, he knows how to use it."

"Then we'd better watch out. Who knows? He might try to scale the building with it."

Adriaan suddenly sat bolt upright, her braid swinging against her shoulder. "That's it!"

Klamin looked at her with his placid face. "What's it?"

Her mind was working too fast for her to answer him immediately. First, she had to factor how tall the building was compared to the length of a standard laserwhip. Then, she had to calculate just how long it would take someone to move from one level of the building to the next…

"Klamin, where are your vehicles located?" she asked. "The Queen's private hangar. Where is it?"

"Right above the audience chambers," Klamin answered. "There's a hatch on the roof that automatically opens up, once permission for takeoff has been granted. We already checked there, remember? Not one swoop was touched. I double-checked, just to be sure. Isn't that good enough for you, Jedi hotshot?"

Adriaan forced down a grin, keeping her attitude serious. This was no time to spar with him, even though she felt inclined to touch up on her verbal skills. "But is there a way to override the hangar lockdown from, say, the city database?"

Understanding flashed through his eyes. He was cleverer than she had thought. "Yes, but it would take some major mastery of computer slicing…"

"Believe it or not, Joh-ma is capable of it. I've seen him override a security lockdown in a city that was over ten thousand kilometers away."

Klamin whistled under his breath. "So what now?"

Throughout this conversation, the Apprentices ––– excluding Andora, who understood Zylxxian ––– had been staring blankly from one person to another. Suddenly Adriaan realized that since they could not follow the rapid speech of Zylxxians, they had not caught one syllable of what she and Klamin had said. This kind of made her feel bad, as if she were taking off without them. After all, the Council had charged her with the responsibility of not only watching over them, but also of training them about how to conduct a successful mission. So far, all she'd done was shown them how to get in an argument with a powerful official, and how to make a whole civilization have a personal vendetta against you until the end of time. And how not to conduct an audience with a sovereign ruler. And how to get your Apprentice hospitalized for a week, minimum. No wonder they all looked at her that way ––– they simply were not impressed with her.

"What in all of GOOD Malastare are you speaking?" Na'thin demanded.

"They speaking dying gorg language," Terry chortled. "At least, that is what they GOODLY sound like."

"No, WICKEDS, you must remember what SPECIES GOOD ol' Miss Ter is," Aedan said placidly.

Adriaan stared at him. "'Miss Ter'?"

"Think, GOOD; a GOOD girl whose last name it Ter. Say her name fast," Terry told her. "Miss Ter. MissTer. Misster. Mister!"

The Wicked Club exploded into bouts of insane giggling.

Andora, Adriaan, and Klamin exchanged looks of disgust.

"But Klamin is a boy, and his last name isn't Ter," Andora said. "I don't get it."

"You don't get anything," Minir retorted huffily.

"So, WICKED King, what were you WICKEDLY saying before you were so GOODLY interrupted?" Na'thin asked, glaring pointedly at Adriaan. "Before Miss Ter GOODLY cut into our most interesting and WICKED conversation?"

The Wicked Club laughed at their own joke.

"Ah, yes, I said that you must remember what SPECIES GOOD ol' Miss Ter Klamin is," Aedan said.

They all looked at each other significantly. "Oh, yes, what SPECIES he is," they echoed.

"What's so mysterious about it?" Adriaan demanded. "It is quite obvious that he is a Zylxxian."

"Oh, no, you might be GOODLY surprised…" Terry said, giggling.

"If only you weren't a GOOD, you'd know…" Kien chuckled.

"What?" Adriaan said, struggling to keep her voice down. "Why? How? Tell me!"

"Why don't you tell the poor GOODS, WICKED geniuses?" Aedan asked, turning to the cousins, who were sucking on their thumbs, oblivious to the heated conversation that was circulating around them.

"Tell them what?" Jahn Pal asked, keeping his finger in his mouth. "That we're hot?"

"Tell them that we smell like walking garbage bins?" Sai'wer inquired.

"They already know that," Jahn Pal said.

"That we are not really stupid like you think we are and that this is all a ruse to hide our true intelligence level?" Sai'wer asked.

Everyone stared at him blankly.

"GOOD job, Jahn Pal," Jahn Pal whispered to his cousin. "You aren't supposed to let them know, remember?"

"My dear cousin Sai'wer; me not Jahn Pal," Sai'wer said to Jahn Pal. "Me name Big Obese Idiot, remember?"

"Oh, yes, now I do," Jahn Pal said. "But I think you should still be called 'Gigantic Corpulent Imbecile'"

"Jahn Pal and Sai'wer!" Adriaan yelled. "Shut up and tell me what 'mysterious species' Klamin is!"

"He a rancor!" Jahn Pal said knowingly.

"What!?" Adriaan and Klamin screamed at the same time.

"Yes," Aedan said, "he's a monster in disguise. But we saw his true, WICKED form, remember, Klamin?"

"Remember what?" Klamin asked, genuinely confused.

"Stop speaking that GOOD language! You can speak basic…which is GOODLY weird, because rancor's usually don't speak to anyone. They just WICKEDLY eat while the eating is WICKED. You threatened us to be GOOD, right, WICKED men?" Aedan said.

"WICKED!" the rest screamed. "He turned into big WICKED rancor, and say he GOOD us, and make us croak, if we don't be GOOD for him!"

"What?" Klamin looked visibly alarmed at their serious tone. "Commander, are you positive that these…whatever they are…are entirely sane?"

She shook her head. "Actually, Klamin, I am absolutely, without question, sure, that they are exactly the opposite of sane. Don't take it to heart. They don't do any harm…unintentionally, that is. You get used to it."

"Master –––" Andora began, but Adriaan had to ignore her, for the present. Andora could wait. Adriaan had to be a good Master to these kids, but sometimes, that meant she had to ignore a few of them, while she focused her attention on the others. Now she could understand why the Jedi did not usually allow a Knight to take on more than one Apprentice at a time. Those arcane Masters must have known, somehow, of the Wicked Club's coming into existence, in the future.

"Aedan, I think that it would be wise for you and your Wicked Men to go rest, while we conduct a search for Joh-ma…" she said.

"NO! REST GOOD!" they shrieked.

"Master –––" Andora said again.

"You a GOOD! You a GOOD! Big Fat GOOD! Gigantic Corpulent Imbecile GOOD! GOOD! GOOD! GOOD!" the Club chanted at her.

"Master –––"

"GOOD! GOOD! Big! Fat! Vertically challenged, horizontally unchallenged GOOD!"

"Master –––"

"Be QUIET, GOODS!" Adriaan yelled. The Wicked Club stared at her in shocked silence. Obviously, they had never heard anyone other than themselves use the term "good" Adriaan hadn't meant to say it ––– no doubt she had said it because she was used to hearing them shout it into her face. Oh well; it had made them shut up…temporarily, at least. "Now, Andora," Adriaan said in a quieter tone, "what, in all hypernovas, do you want?"

"I don't want anything," Andora said.

"Then why were you calling her?" Klamin asked.

"Because Joh-ma just ran down the hall," Andora replied calmly.

"WHAT?!" Adriaan and Klamin jumped up simultaneously and catapulted themselves toward the door. The door hissed open, microseconds before they were about to slam into it.

Adriaan nearly ran into the wall, but she checked herself in time. She winced as the sound of boots squealing upon the tiles shrieked in her ears, as she and Klamin turned…

…Only to see the tail-end of Joh-ma's black cape disappear around the corner.

Both Adriaan and Klamin raced after the mercenary.

"GOOD!" she heard the Wicked Club scream behind them. "GO GOOD Master! GO GOOD rancor-man! GO! WICKED!"

The Force entered into her being, warning her of a coming attack. A microsecond later, a thermal detonator exploded just twelve meters shy of her and Klamin. Using the Force to tune out all other noise, she focused her hearing upon an insistent beeping noise that was coming from down the hall.

"Klamin! Move!"

A silver ball seemed to float in the air before them. Clinging to the Force energy surrounding her, she leaped away from it, but her comrade was not so quick. The ball contacted with the ground in front of him.

"No!"

She didn't know exactly how it happened, but somehow, Klamin went all shimmery-like and rolled several meters forward. He came up beside her, then glided ahead, as quickly as a breath of air.

The thermal detonator exploded harmlessly thirty meters behind them.

Klamin turned as he ran to acknowledge her with a grin that was entirely his. Adriaan tried to smile back, but could not from pure amazement. Amazement that a gangly being that most likely spent time sitting at a database could be so…agile. Amazement that even in the midst of running at top speed, he was able to turn and grin with pride at his accomplishment.

She half-smiled at herself. She hadn't felt amazement in a long time ––– perhaps she had thought that she had experienced all the galaxy had to offer, so there was nothing left to amaze her. Now she saw that she had missed something. Someone. Someone who was ordinary but was yet, in some way, extraordinary.

Her heart thumped in time to the sound of hers and Klamin's feet upon the floor. She felt the erratical pounding of her lightsaber hilt against her hip as she pushed her body to the highest velocity it could go. As she ran, she thought of three things. Number One was: _I can't believe Andora just let Joh-ma out of my grasp like that. I can't believe that I didn_'_t acknowledge her in the first place, like a true Jedi Master would. _Her second thought was: _I wonder how this tall, awkward-looking Zylxxian was able to dodge that thermal detonator so quickly. A regular being could not have done that; not in the amount of time he had. It's as if he has a Force connection or something. _This hypothesis almost made her come to a dead stop in the middle of the chase, but she was too experienced of a Jedi to do something like that. She put that thought aside to contemplate later.

The last thing she thought to herself was:_ I certainly hope that Klamin knows where we are going. Because I don't._

Then she saw Joh-ma. He was standing inside a turbolift. And the turbolift doors were closing. But even through the ever-narrowing crack, Adriaan could see his face. His smirk of triumph.

_I cannot let this happen. I cannot let him get away like this…_

She summoned the Force, using it to propel both her and Klamin forward. Time slowed down…time was frozen. The doors stopped closing; there was only about half a meter of space between them. Not enough for both of them to get through. But that was where the Force came into play.

She focused her energy, sending it out in a huge wave toward the door. She was running, so she was not able to hold out her hands to control her power. But she didn't need to. She directed it with her mind, bending it to her will, throwing her strength between the double doors.

_Push, _she commanded.

The doors started to slide open. Joh-ma's grin went down a notch. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, her head throbbed, her muscles tensed with the effort, as if she was holding open the doors in reality. She _was _holding them open…telekinetically speaking. The turbolift mechanism struggled to push the doors together. It was getting too hard to hold them apart.

_Size matters not, _Yoda's voice rose to her lips, from the very depths of her heart. His words seemed to push her strength farther, and the weight of the closing durasteel doors seemed to lessen.

A loud shriek rent the air as metal grated against metal. The doors seemed to melt back, collapsing into a molten heap, as the Force stopped the doors from functioning. The turbolift's repulsor-lift motor exhaled with a drawn out _whoosh _as it slowly died down. The Separatist's smirk disappeared as chunks of the turbolift fell around him.

Adriaan and Klamin slid into the turbolift as she released her hold on the Force and sped up time, back to its original rate. Klamin withdrew his ever-present blaster pistol and fired at Joh-ma, but the Weequay was able to roll aside in time. Adriaan watched as Klamin adjusted to the move and took a step backward, his expression mildly surprised. Apparently, he did not expect such a soft-looking, office junkie type of being to be so quick on his feet.

Adriaan raised her hand, and her lightsaber flew from her belt and activated itself. Joh-ma raised a flame-colored laser whip and knocked her hand away as she bore down on him. Adriaan put out her left foot and pushed it against the turbolift wall, using the momentum to twirl around and catch Joh-ma in a quick jab with her right fist.

Joh-ma screamed, and at the same time, Klamin moved forward, a vibro-knife in his hand. The whip curled through the air again, dislodging the knife from Klamin's grasp. As the Queen's advisor lunged for his weapon, Joh-ma took advantage of the moment, whirling around and lashing at Adriaan.

She ducked, quickly placing one hand on the floor to balance herself, as she came back up and did a roundhouse kick to his face. He howled with pain, clutching at his head. Klamin scrambled for the Weequay and held out a hand. The whip seemed to fly through the air, as Klamin took possession of the weapon.

Adriaan blinked. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? Or did it the whip really float across a space of two meters, without any aid, to land in Klamin's outstretched hand, as if attracted by some magnetic force? It had to have been impossible.

She had no time to wonder, because she had a job to complete. She held her lightsaber across the Weequay's neck and jerked her head at Klamin, indicating the blaster, which had fallen to the floor earlier. He secured it and held it in front of Joh-ma's face.

"All right, Weequay," Klamin said, his eyes slits as he stared at the prisoner, "what's all this about Actin 3?"

"Please don't hurt me," Joh-ma whined, cringing against Adriaan. "I was hired to do this. I don't know anything. I didn't do anything to you. Please let me go…"

"You attempted to murder a young child protected by Galactic Law," Klamin hissed. "You killed a Nebula guard and trespassed upon Zylxxian territory, _and_ you openly fired upon a Jedi and a Zylxxian official. That alone is punishable with execution –––"

"Execution? Please, spare me, oh Great Lord of Zylxxians. I was forced to do this," Joh-ma said.

"Oh, how terrible," Adriaan said sardonically, holding up a heavy sackful of credits that she had found in his pocket, "don't tell me that these credits were just _forced _upon you."

"Oh, how wise you are, Most Beautiful One!" Joh-ma cried, clutching at the hem of her robe. "It is true that I was paid to assassinate you. Only the most Wisest of the Wise could have guessed what you did, Young One. Perhaps I have misjudged you, after all of these years. Remember your Jedi training, Little One. Would your Master surely have let you kill me, here, now, like this? Where is the fabled Jedi mercy they speak about?"

"My Master would have killed you, Joh-ma," Adriaan said. "And he would have given you a more dishonorable death then I will give you."

"No, oh Gracious One!" Joh-ma cried, throwing his arms around her. "Surely you must have even one atom of pity in your heart for such an ugly, deformed creature as I. Star of the Heavens, does your blood run cold within you?"

"Get off of her, Joh-ma!" Klamin said, pushing him to the ground. "I will kill you now!"

He pointed the blaster at the cowering prisoner's head.

"No," Adriaan said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Even in someone as corrupt as he is, Joh-ma has an ounce of truth in him. We cannot just kill him like this."

"Thank you, Most Exquisite, Ravishing One!" Joh-ma exclaimed.

"But he would have done the same to us if we had been in the same predicament!" Klamin protested.

"That doesn't make it right," Adriaan said. "We'd only be acting like our enemies if we killed him."

A sudden understanding lit up in Klamin's eyes. Slowly, he lowered his blaster. "I understand. You are right. You can get up, Weequay," he added gruffly to Joh-ma.

The Weequay stood up flinchingly, as if he were in intense pain. But as he straightened, Adriaan caught a gleam of malice in his eye. She lunged for him.

"Stop!"

But it was too late. Joh-ma withdrew his liquid cable launcher and aimed it for the turbolift shaft. She heard it connect with something at the top as Joh-ma turned to flash a grin at her. On his wrist, she saw a loaded Merr-Sonn rocket.

"Flattery works, Little One," he said. "I think you know that."

She felt her face flush from both resentment and embarrassment. He must have been listening in while she had been getting that medic to talk. Now she held no secrets from him. Unless he hadn't been able to piece together the puzzle like she had…

"So much for mercy," he said, activating the cable launcher. "Time to adjust to life in the real galaxy, _little girl._"

The liquid cable carried him upwards.

Out of their reach.


	11. The Chase: Part 2

** chapter 11**

"Well," Klamin said after a moment, "aren't you going to Force jump up to him?"

She shook her head, her hair swinging against her cheek. She winced; she could feel a welt swelling near her temple, where the whip had grazed her. "Can't. He planted a charge. Look."

He followed her gaze upward, toward the thin beam of blue light, invisible to the casual eye. He whistled. "You were right about the whip. That Weequay has more up his sleeve besides a Merr-Sonn. But did he have to bring trip mines?"

"Of course," Adriaan said. "Sadly, greedy people know how to stop other beings from getting at them. So they come prepared. Unfortunately for him, I can dismantle the trip mine."

"Good."

"Not good. Unfortunately, it would take a few minutes. And that's all he needs to get out of our grasp permanently."

"Man."

"Vice versa, Klamin. Fortunately, I know what route he's taking." She held up the bag of credits and pulled out a small folding datafile. "He had the ah, _misfortune_, to leave it behind in his dignified retreat."

"Good."

"Negative. Unfortunately for us, it would take too long to get there and catch him in time."

"Oh."

"So we go with Plan B."

"Plan B?"

Instead of answering, she asked a question herself. "How far can your Mak'oki ––– the appendages on your arms –––– reach? Twenty-two meters, perhaps? To the top of this building, standing on this level?"

He grunted in assent. "Far enough."

"Follow me, then."

She ducked out into the hallway and started for a window. Klamin followed, bending over so that his head missed the sharp chunk of durasteel that was dangling from the turbolift entrance.

Adriaan withdrew her lightsaber and stood against the wall, turning so that she was facing perpendicular to the window. She motioned for the Zylxxian to do the same.

"Get back. This might be a little messy," she told him.

He came up beside her, pressing his back against the wall. "Whatever you say. Though I hardly feel assured at the prospects of breaking it. I doubt Epi'do would enjoy cleaning up after us."

She snorted. "Well, since he treats us like little kids, he's gonna have to deal with us like little kids. Little kids don't clean up after themselves ––– the grown-ups do the dirty work for them, right?"

He grinned. "Good interpretation. Knock the transparisteel out."

She threw her weapon at her target, activating her lightsaber as soon as she released it. It twirled in a spinning blue arc, cutting away at the transparisteel. The window seemed to liquify as the whole frame crashed upon the floor like millions of tiny water droplets.

Adriaan held out her hand, and the lightsaber returned. Casually, she jammed it back on her utility belt, hitched up her leggings, and stepped through the opening she had created. She felt Klamin's breath on her neck, so she knew that he had followed.

She tilted her head back, squinting against the harsh glare. Sure enough, there was a short ledge protruding from the vine-covered wall, about thirty meters above them. She glanced at the Zylxxian and pointed at the ledge. He nodded grimly and poised his right arm over his head. The tentacle on his elbow writhed in the air as he aimed it at the ledge.

_Thunk._

The Mak'oki had attached successfully. Adriaan reached over and grabbed at a strong, supple vine. She yanked on it, testing if it would bear her weight. It held. She gestured at Klamin. "Meet you at the top."

Klamin began to slowly rise in the air as his Mak'oki gently pulled him upwards. Adriaan braced her feet against the wall, then began to climb the vine, hand over hand.

They reached the top, both breathing a little harder from the exertion. They were facing another one of those windows. Through the glass, Adriaan could discern the shapes of vehicles, so she knew that they had reached the hangar, at last. And there was still no sign of Joh-ma. Which was good.

Or bad, because he might've already left. But Adriaan doubted that. Joh-ma could move when he had to, but once he thought the coast was clear, he could be as slow as a drunken Hutt in a space suit.

Klamin's Mak'oki shot forward, curling like a whip toward the transparisteel. "Allow me."

More transparisteel shattered upon the floor. They dropped into the hangar. "Wow," Klamin commented, "one thousand, five hundred credits from my personal account, good-bye. I hope the accommodations in Epi'do's vault are good."

"Go ahead and keep your wallet inside your pocket, Klamin," Adriaan said. "We can just blame the damage on Joh-ma."

They both exchanged insidious grins, envisioning the look on Epi'do's face when he saw the damage they had done. One thing was for sure ––– Epi'do needed to be put in his place. And both Klamin and Adriaan would be very glad if they were to be the ones to do it.

Adriaan looked around. They were now in the private hangar bay of Queen Hyrax. It was just as she had expected ––– the majority of vehicles were swoops and landspeeders that had a low velocity and were too decorative for her taste. She did notice something, though, that held her gaze ––– it was a new but slightly dented Delta-7 _Aethersprite _starfighter. She recognized the design immediately ––– it was a new design that had just been released a few months ago, by the Kuat Systems engineering facilities. Adriaan came up to it, running her hand over the familiar wedge-shaped hull. What was a Delta-7 Jedi starfighter doing so far out here, in the Mid-Rim? She had thought that the Kuat Systems had sold the models to just the Jedi Temple.

"Cool, huh?" Klamin had come up beside her. "A friend of mine who works for Kuat facilities got this sweet deal for me. They were practically throwing this baby away."

"Why?" Adriaan asked, running her finger across red and black paint. "It seems to be in top shape to me."

"It hada faulty astromech droid hard-wired into the ship before they realized that it was malfunctioning," he explained. "Also, the secondary ion cannons kept on overheating, so they decided it wasn't worth fixing. Too expensive."

"So you bought it," Adriaan guessed. "I see that you made some improvements upon the design. There is no R2 unit built into this ship."

"I removed the truncated droid unit and wired a body into it," he said. "I also added a spring to the socket where the droid was originally wired into, so that the full-bodied R2 can be released from the starfighter upon landing. As for the secondary ion cannons, I tinkered with the particle beam to optimize the starship's performance."

"Very good," Adriaan said approvingly. "Except it makes the starship prone to overheating."

"True," Klamin agreed. "That's why I adjusted the internal mechanisms so that around twenty percent of heat released from the engines is fed back into the systems."

"Nice. Hey, you really have some skills as a mechanic. I think you should apply for a job with the Kuat engineering facilities," Adriaan said, trying to keep the admiration she felt from creeping into her voice. "I hear they pay pretty well."

He shook his head, staring at a small dent on the port side. "I'm not cut out for it," he said. "I prefer to take life on easy. Shoot a couple of criminals, run around on a wild bantha chase through extreme danger, tinker with some trashed-up ship models ––– I want to have time for that. You can't do that kind of stuff when you're a wealthy engineer working for some top-rate company, you know what I mean?"

Personally, Adriaan agreed with him, but she did not voice her opinions aloud. She felt that she had come to trust this Zylxxian, whom she had met less then an hour ago, too quickly. He could be working for Joh-ma. He could be a spy sent to track her down. She felt that he was hiding something ––– the Jedi starfighter, his sweet tech skills, and his unusually fast instincts made her slightly suspicious. It could be he was a Force-adept, sent by one of her longtime enemies, to take her down.

Suddenly, Klamin stiffened. Before she could ask what was wrong, he grabbed her by the arm and roughly pulled her down to a crouching position beside him.

"Ouch," she whispered, rubbing the red fingerprints on her arm where he had gripped it. "What's up?"

"Joh-ma," he hissed, keeping his body close to the starfighter.

Immediately, she shrank closer to the shiny metal hull. She pressed her hands against the ship and half-stood, so that she could get a clear view of the hangar.

The Weequay was there, all right. Right on schedule. Adriaan saw him standing at the entrance to the turbolift, hitting the recoil button on his liquid cable launcher as he unhooked it from the wall. He had jammed his laserwhip into his belt, but in his hand, Adriaan could see that he held a small blaster pistol.

She watched him warily as his eyes swept over the room, his gaze flicking over each vehicle as he tried to decide which one to use. No doubt he was looking a really glitzy, top-rate swoop that would really be missed. One thing she knew about Joh-ma ––– he liked to take what was cherished the most; not because he wanted it, but because he liked to see beings suffer. She remembered once, long ago, he had seen him take away the only possession a slave girl had, a little doll made of spare droid parts…

His eyes rested on the sleek red and black hull of Klamin's starfighter. Adriaan stifled a gasp. _Shoot! If he's going to come over here…_

She heard a slight click as Klamin cocked his blaster pistol and pointed it at Joh-ma's head. His translucent face watched grimly as Joh-ma moved closer to their starfighter. Adriaan had no doubt that Klamin would fight to the death before someone took away his ship.

She restrained him by placing a hand on his shoulder. He abruptly shrugged her off, but she leaned in closer. "Hold your fire; we need him as a prisoner. He knows things," she hissed into his ear.

Just then the floor shook as a muffled explosion rent the air. Adriaan felt her body levitate as an air pocket created from the explosion slammed her into a landspeeder. She choked for breath, but it had been knocked out of her. She felt something soft and warm slam into her, and she dimly realized that it was Klamin's body. Something yanked her away from the speeder and sent her sprawling…

…Out into the open.


	12. The Wicked Club Dead?

** chapter 12**

Luckily, Joh-ma was too occupied with his own problems to notice her…yet.

Adriaan felt like laughing, and she would have, if she hadn't felt like her lungs were about to implode. But Joh-ma looked so funny. He had been lifted bodily through the air, and had crashed into Klamin's starfighter. Somehow, he had gotten his whole body stuffed into the cavity that was for the astromech droid. Not only was his body stuck, but his arms were pinned in the socket, as well. Joh-ma, a former space-pirate, one who prided himself as the master of con artists, was trapped as neatly as a Worrt in a sandpit. The entire Red Guard of the Chancellor could not have done better.

_ Now I just need to get him out. And judging by the size of his belt, I doubt very much that I will be able to do it._

Joh-ma struggled inside his snug prison, screaming Rodian curses at no one in particular, embarrassed at his awkward predicament. Adriaan automatically began to translate his words mentally, but caught herself in time. _I don't need to hear him swear in basic, too._

Joh-ma must have realized that he was ignoring his surroundings, for he suddenly stopped his yelling and looked up suspiciously. Adriaan rolled to her feet and stood. It was no use hiding. He knew that she was there.

"I see that you have gotten yourself into yet another mess, Joh-ma," she said to him. "A con artist, eh? Then how, in all supernovas, did you manage to get caught in a droid socket?"

"Ah, it's the cute little baby Jedi," Joh-ma said, his voice smooth and calm, even in the midst of being captured. "Believe me, I doubted that you would ever get this close to catch me. I really did."

"So I'm not such a baby Jedi, huh?" Adriaan asked.

He grinned cunningly. "Of course you aren't," he purred. "You have just proven to me that you are a Jedi that may as well just lay down and die right now, while you yet have an option left for a quick and painless death."

"I'm flattered."

"Don't be. It wasn't a compliment."

"Why taunt me, Joh-ma?" Adriaan asked, stepping toward the captured space pirate. "You are in my power. Why try to make me angry?"

"Because I am far from being your prisoner. You are going to let me walk out of here with that Jedi starfighter, or you will die like your Padawans."

Adriaan jerked involuntarily and stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

"How sweet, the little high-and-mighty Jedi is actually _listening _to me," he said sarcastically.

"Can your petulant insults!" Adriaan yelled. She marched over and grabbed the Weequay by the collar of his robe. "What did you do to my Apprentices?"

"You worry too much, even for a Jedi," he commented dryly. "They most likely didn't feel a thing. That trip mine was programmed to explode with twice the firepower."

She felt the blood drain from her face as a realization of what had happened dawned on her. The Wicked Club and Andora must have been following them. They would have seen the broken turbolift and would have assumed that Adriaan and Klamin had followed Joh-ma up the shaft. They wouldn't have known about the trip mine…

So that was the explosion that she had felt through the floor. If she could be thrown through the air by the explosion down below, that trip mine would have been capable of blowing up the entire level below them.

Joh-ma grinned with cruel triumph at the look on her face. "What is the matter?" he asked maliciously. "Your Padawans will be all right. After all, Jedi don't die. What is that euphemism you give, when one of you passes away? You 'Join the Force' right?"

Adriaan was feeling sick to her stomach. A scream rose inside her chest; she pushed it down into the pit of her stomach. No. This couldn't be true. She had failed…

"So now, if you don't mind, I'll just leave…" Joh-ma began to wriggle out of the socket.

Adriaan activated her lightsaber. Her mind was stunned from the cold reality, yet she willed herself to do her duty. Joh-ma was not going to walk out of this hangar unless she wanted him to. "You're coming with me, Joh-ma."

He stared at her. Then smirked. "Thanks for the invitation, but my troops need me, and the information that the Zylxxians so kindly let me borrow from their archives."

He withdrew a blaster with a huge barrel. Adriaan went pale as she recognized the design ––– it was a portable launcher system, capable of tracking an athletic Jedi running at top speed, and reducing her into absolutely nothing; not even a pile of ashes to mark her fall.

"So if you don't mind," Joh-ma said, his voice ominously soft, "I'd like that Jedi starfighter, please."


	13. Faceoff

**chapter 13**

Adriaan swallowed. She wasn't the type to back down, even in the face of a portable missile launcher, but she was feeling unusually faint-hearted for the task ahead. She would probably be forced to kill him. Not that she liked him ––– she just hated to kill a being.

Joh-ma's hand was steady as he trained the targeting system onto her. "Move out of the way, whelp, or you're joined with the Force."

Adriaan shook her head slowly, shifting her feet so that her body was turned sideways, yet her shoulders were kept facing her opponent. She had to be ready, when the time came for him to fire.

Joh-ma's hand quivered slightly as his index finger moved to the trigger. "I don't believe it," he hissed. "You are an idiot for not taking the chance to run off and save your pitiful carcass. Where is that undying loyalty to your Republic? Do you not want to live and fight for your precious Chancellor? Are you not afraid of death?"

_Am I afraid of death? Do I fear getting blasted into oblivion by a rocket? _

"I am not afraid of you," Adriaan said aloud. "I am not afraid to die for the Republic. I would die a thousand times over, if only that would save the galaxy from the evil we are fighting."

"I'm insulted, Jedi," Joh-ma said. "You call my cause evil? Do you call the right to secede from a Republic that is corrupted by greed, evil? Do you say that to defend yourself from a brutal attack from the mighty Republic, is somehow wrong? Surely, you must see through the fog of lies the Jedi and the Republic have created around you."

_Don't listen to him. He's given you enough trouble. Go ahead; put yourself out of your misery. Kill him._

_But he IS right. The Senate truly is corrupted; those systems had the right to secede. Yet that is not why they left the Republic –––– they left for more power. They left because they thought that the Republic was not serving them. Think of the leaders of the Seps –––– the Trade Federation, the Techno Union army, the Commerce Guild……all of them have one thing in common: a ridiculous accumulation of wealth and prestige, and the desire to have more credits and power than anyone else in the galaxy. This war isn't about the desire for galactic unity and justice ––– it's about greed._

_ The Question is: are both sides greedy? For you cannot turn a blind eye to the petty ambitions and plots of the remaining senators…and of the Chancellor, too. Are you even fighting for the right side?_

"I see what the Republic is," Adriaan said. "I see what the Republic symbolizes. I see what your cause really is; I see what it stands for. I will never lay down my loyalties and join a confederacy that is based upon greed. The Senate is corrupt with petulant representatives, it is true, but it also still has many good senators, honest beings who truly represent their people. It is not the Chancellor, it is not the debased senators for whom I fight, but for the good beings that I know exist in this galaxy. These are whom I am proud to fight for."

Joh-ma rolled his eyes. "How touching," he sneered. "It is a pity that I must kill such a morally upright person. But, as circumstances demand, I have no choice." He pulled the trigger.

Adriaan was way more than ready. She had already anticipated his attack; she knew that he would not listen to her words, no matter how eloquent she made them sound. As the rocket was released from the missile tube, she leaped off to the side, imperceptibly moving a few meters closer to Joh-ma. Her plan was to either guide the missile into her attacker, or to get close enough to simply dispatch him with her lightsaber.

Just as she had expected, the missile altered its course so that it locked onto her. Adriaan let herself lose some of the ground she had gained, running toward the wall as the rocket continued to track her. Calling upon the Force, she ran up the smooth stone and pushed against it, flipping over the incoming missile.

_BOOM! _

She unfolded her body to spread out her weight, riding the wave of air created from the imploding explosive. She landed neatly on the floor, rolling to a standing position and swinging her lightsaber in a challenge to Joh-ma.

He was still smiling, which wasn't a good sign. His fingers moved deftly as he reloaded the missile tube. "Good. Very good. Unfortunately, not good enough."

_BAM!_

Adriaan dove for the floor as the rocket locked onto her and zoomed toward her. She skidded across the tiles and cracked her head against a swoop in the process of getting out of the way, but a little bruise to the cranium could not stop her. A sharp, aching pain shot through her brain as she leaped from her back to her feet. The missile swerved and followed her.

Out of the corner of her vision, she saw a shimmering, bright red figure glide across the space, just as the missile homed in on her and dove in for the kill.

_WHOOSH._

Adriaan was knocked off her feet as the rocket exploded a sickening ten meters from her. She arched her back as she flew through the air, flipping over so that she landed on her hands before springing to her feet.

Klamin fumbled for another thermal detonator, his iridescent face blackened by smoke and ash. Her mouth dropped open with the stunning reality of what had happened. _No way. No one could have possibly thrown a thermal at a missile, flying at that velocity, and actually hit it. No one; I doubt that most Jedi would have been able to accomplish such a feat, unless they were terribly talented, or incredibly lucky. Klamin, who are you?_

Even Joh-ma looked impressed. "Ah, it's the Queen's young advisor. You have talent…what was your name again? Kaw Mean? Claw Men ––– ah, that would make a catchy sith name, eh, Ree?'

"It's Klamin, you archaic old krayt fossil," the Zylxxian said easily, tossing the detonator from his left hand to his right.

"Klamin, then," the Weequay said, shrugging. "Now, I would suggest that you drop that shiny metal ball you are holding. Explosives are not meant to be handled by little children."

"I am as old as you, though I am happy to say that I am not as old-looking," Klamin said bitingly.

Adriaan dropped to the floor, out of Joh-ma's sight line. Klamin's eyes darted in her direction. She motioned with her hand at him to keep the Weequay distracted. He nodded and turned his gaze back toward the Separatist. Adriaan began to crawl on her stomach toward the starfighter.

Joh-ma snorted at Klamin, not noticing Adriaan's absence. "Do you think that the envoy of the Count himself would be so naïve? I have enslaved your people; I have turned your children into drudges. One of the space pirate customs that I have adopted is the practice of tattooing slaves with my own personal mark, to distinguish my slaves from the rest. This process requires a cataloguing of every individual's name, age, gender, species, and industrial worth. So instead of throwing you pitiful beings into pits to rot, I keep files on every Zylxxian under my care. Because of this, I can calculate the age and potential of any being by sight alone."

_Come on, keep talking, Joh-ma. Almost there._

"Ah, so how old am I, Verbose One?" Klamin said loudly.

Adriaan reached the starfighter and slowly stood up, withdrawing her lightsaber as she did so. She pointed it at the Weequay's back and shot a look at Klamin that said, "Ready"

"Aetatis fifteen, Klamin. But, alas, I fear that you must die young."

"Get him, Jedi girl!" Klamin yelled as Joh-ma launched another missile, this time targeting the Zylxxian.

Adriaan activated her lightsaber and threw it at Joh-ma.

He whirled around, his mouth white with foam, his eyes bloodshot. "You little Dathomir witch…"

His laserwhip snaked across the space and curled around the handle of her lightsaber. The airborne weapon was jerked abruptly from its path and was sent spinning into the wall.

Adriaan licked her lips. _Oops. That's not supposed to happen._

"Now, where were we, Ree?" the Weequay said calmly, as if nothing had happened. "Ah, yes. I believe you were allowing me to borrow that starfighter."

Adriaan did a front handspring to a double front flip and landed in front of him, her fists raised, her legs spread wide apart to give her balance. She was a fourth-level master of the Mabani martial arts, so she felt confident of who would win this melee. She had been instructed well in the art by her old Master, who had been taught by the Zolan artists himself…

_It was the only thing he taught me correctly._

Joh-ma withdrew the vibroknife, the one that Adriaan recognized as having originally been owned by Klamin, and lunged at her.

"Hi-yah!"

She did a tornado spin hook, catching him on the left side of his jaw. The knife bore down on her, but she deflected it easily with a high block. She crossed her feet and came at him with a quick jump push kick, knocking him to the floor.

Unfortunately, Joh-ma had also been trained in the Mabani arts. Leaping swiftly to his feet, he jumped forward delivered a snap kick to her head. Turning around, he executed a back round kick, but this time he did not score a hit. Bringing up her right arm, Adriaan easily blocked the blow and brought her back hand around for a strike.

Joh-ma stumbled backward, the vibroblade still in his hand. He swiped at her with the weapon, only to be deflected again by a knife hand block. Joh-ma swung wide, and in that moment, Adriaan saw her opening. Diving into his left side, she jabbed him in the gut with her elbow, came up, turned around, and whacked him in the shins.

The Weequay screamed and arched backward. Adriaan brought her left hand down in a swift chop to his neck before knocking the knife out of his hand and rolling away.

Meanwhile, Klamin had been circling the sparring duo, waiting for his chance to take Joh-ma out with his hand blaster. Adriaan liked how he hadn't rushed in and tried to take over the situation, as would be expected from an average official. But Klamin wasn't your run-of-the-mill advisor. What he had done in the past half-hour proved that.

"You're covered, Joh-boy," Klamin called out to the Weequay. "Trapped as neatly as a massiff in a sarlacc's jaws."

Joh-ma slowly lifted his head from his prone position on the ground. He looked around, a faint smile on his face. "Traps always have an entrance. That entrance can become an exit."

"Your only exit is this way," Klamin said, indicating his blaster. "Unless you will surrender to us…"

The alien stared at the Nebula for several moments. "Then I guess I'll just have to get out the easy way," he said softly.

Then Adriaan noticed the gleam of a blaster pistol beneath the folds of Joh-ma's tunic. "No!"

She barreled into him, sending them both flying into Klamin's Jedi starfighter. The blaster was in Joh-ma's hand now, and she grappled for it, grabbing onto his wrist and twisting it so that he cried aloud in pain. Growling savagely, he brought her hand up to his face and bit it viciously. Adriaan winced but grimly held onto the barrel of the pistol.

Something picked her up and threw her against the wall suddenly, causing her breath to get knocked out of her. Sitting up groggily, she watched as the Zylxxian jammed the Weequay into the floor. The two rolled over, at each other's necks. Both pistols lay on the ground, out of their reach.

Her lightsaber would be useless in this situation. There was nothing to do but watch…

Then she noticed a dull silver gleam on the floor. Crawling forward, she grasped the edge of the vibroknife. It was curved, almost like a boomerang. It wasn't as destructive as a lightsaber. Could it…?

Adriaan took careful aim, then threw the knife at Joh-ma.


	14. Collapsing Ceiling

** chapter 14**

"Ah, so the GOODS decide to take off and abandon us _again_," Aedan commented as they ran down the hall, in heated pursuit after their Master.

"Yeah, she dumped poor UNWICKED Kan and ran off with rancor-man," Terry said.

"Stop gossiping about our benignant, omniscient Master," Andora reprimanded. "She has done so much…and she cares for our well-being. When she found out that it was because of the thinness of the atmosphere that had caused Kan to be hospitalized, she requested an antidote for the rest of us, so that we would not succumb, as our weaker comrade did."

"Oh?" Kien asked. "Then why hasn't she treated us with the GOOD antidote thingy yet?"

"I fear Master ell Talaan has been given a lot of work to do…" Andora mumbled.

"See, GOOD? She doesn't care," Minir said. "If she _did _care, we would be taking the medicine right now."

"My young Padawans, I'm sleepy," Jahn Pal said.

"Me, too," Sai'wer mumbled, leaning against the wall.

"GOODS! We are not your Padawans! We are not anyone's Padawans! I am the Lord! Lord Aedan the WICKED! Say it, or I will skewer you and fry you in acid rain."

"Oh, oh!" the cousins drew up and clapped their hands at their sides sloppily. "Yes, Lord Aedan the GOOD! We request that you cede your prerogative…"

Aedan glared and raised his fists threateningly.

"Ah, I suggest that you use an antonym for 'cede'" Andora whispered.

"We request that you seed your Preyo-gativ fruit before you consume it," the cousins amended.

Aedan, Terry, Kien, Minir and Na'thin exchanged quizzical glances. "That was GOODLY random."

"Seeds bad for digestion," Jahn Pal mumbled.

"Me hungry," Sai'wer wailed.

Andora decided to change the subject. "So, do you think we should go get the elixir, or go chase after Joh-ma? I think that we should just run after the Weequay and forget about the medicine, but…"

"Shut up GOOD, we have the situation covered," Aedan said. "Terry! Na'thin! Get back to that GOOD medic and demand the elixir."

"No, don't _demand _it, or he won't give it to you," Andora said. "We must be polite and go at this diplomatically. Master ell Talaan gave me some credits –––" She reached into the folds of her tunic and pulled out a credit chip. "Here –––"

Aedan snatched at the cube and held it out of her reach. "Thank you for so WICKEDLY donating the credits I needed to buy those baby mynocks they were selling in the black market the other day…"

"Aedan!" Andora cried, lunging for the credit. "That's mine! Give it back!"

He looked confused. "But, little sister, weren't you just offering it to me a few minutes ago?"

She put her hands on her hips. "Well, for one thing, I was offering it to Terry. It's not for buying animals or hologames. This is for buying the antidote from the medic so that none of us will hyperventilate!"

"So you want it back?" Aedan spit on the chip, rubbed it between his finger, and handed it back to his sister. "Here you go."

Andora recoiled. Aedan's hands were far from being clean, and she did not doubt that his saliva carried bacteria. "Keep it," she said sullenly.

Aedan shrugged and slipped the chip into his pocket. "Thanks again, GOOD. Now, Terry and Na'thin, if he refuses to sell you the elixir for free, I want you to…" he hesitated and glanced at Andora. "…I want you to execute Order 776 921CROAK. Got it, WICKEDS?"

They grinned devilishly. "Got it."

"Okay, get going, on the doubly WICKED!"

The two boys ran off as Aedan turned and gazed at the rest of the group. "Now, as for the rest of you, you will follow WICKED me and WICKED Kien. I chose you idiots for a reason ––– Jahn Pal and Sai'wer may be stupid, but they are also WICKED, so they don't follow instructions unless the instructions are given by a WICKED. You, Andora, are my GOOD twin sister; therefore you are susceptible to croaking, unless I am here to WICKEDLY protect you."

"That's just congenial," Andora said sarcastically.

"Hey, how come Kien gets to be in charge?" Minir fussed. "I'm older and WICKEDER than him."

"Because unlike you, Kien has a sense of humor," Aedan replied. "And I never hear any GOOD complaining spilling out of his gobbler, either."

"That's GOOD! Unfair!" Minir screamed.

"See, you GOOD, there you go again," Aedan said easily, "UNWICKEDLY whining."

"Boohoo!" Jahn Pal and Sai'wer cried. "We want to be babies, too."

"Do not worry; you already qualify as GOOD little babies," Kien said.

"Hey! Are you GOODLY implying that _I _ama baby?" Minir demanded. "I thought I informed you that I am WICKED!"

"Of course, of course, but babies can be WICKED too…"

"I am not a GOOD, or a WICKED baby! I am a WICKED man!"

"Man? Hah. You GOOD, you haven't even reached the double digits yet."

"Striplings," Andora came to a stop, "that turbolift over there…"

Aedan turned his attention from the argument long enough to look at the destroyed turbolift. "WICKED," he breathed.

They stopped before the entrance, eyeing the chunk of metal jutting out from the lintel nervously. It looked as if it would fall at any second. Finally, Kien summoned enough courage to poke his head in and sniff the air. Immediately, he stuck his head back out. "Blazing WICKED ferrocrete lizards," Kien said. "That thing definitely isn't going to work anymore."

"These Zylxxians are never convenient," Minir griped.

"GOODLY complaining again," Aedan hissed.

Andora stepped gingerly into the demolished capsule. "I surmise Master ell Talaan, the advisor, and Mister Joh-ma fought here."

"What, pray, gives you such WICKED insight into such matters?" Aedan inquired, squeezing through the broken doors.

She lifted her hand, indicating long slashes in the durasteel walls. It looked as if someone had burned a crisscross design into the metal. "Those are lightsaber marks in the wall. And here…" she stooped down and pointed at an oblong, black smudge in the flooring. "…This, I believe, is an imprint of someone's boot. Judging by the size, I would conclude that it was made by Mister Klamin."

"'_Mister_ Klamin? You GOOD, why don't you cut the formalities and just call him GOOD old Klamin?" Aedan asked. "You hurt my ears with your GOOD, wasteful, long, extensive vocabulary."

"It shows intelligence in a being if they have an exceptional vocabulary," Andora said.

"I think you are just trying to UNWICKEDLY show off," Minir mumbled.

"Silence," Andora said. "It is compulsory that we make our way up this shaft and find our Master quickly, before it is too late."

"Patience, my GOOD, patience," Aedan said. "Forgetting your Jedi lessons?"

She bit her lip. "At least I attend my classes…"

"Which is WICKEDER, to be GOOD and be GOOD, or to be WICKED and be WICKED?" Aedan asked.

Andora frowned, perplexed. "I beg your pardon?"

"Ah, pretty lady, he is asking if it is better to be good and come to all your classes, or to miss your classes, yet still learn the lesson," Sai'wer said.

"Oh, well I –––"

"Enough mouth exercising," Aedan said. "We go WICKEDLY up."

Aedan leaped a few meters up, clutching at the walls of the shaft, as he began his precarious ascent.

"Wait! No, GOOD king, you die!" Jahn Pal yelled.

"Me NEVER CROAK!" Aedan shrieked down at him. He clawed desperately for a foothold as he pulled himself up two more meters.

"Oh, ohhhh…" Sai'wer began to whimper. "He run into terrible beam of blue light."

"He implode; his guts will spatter all over the ground," Jahn Pal moaned.

"His bowels will fall on your head," Sai'wer agreed.

"Yeah, and his kidney's will drop into Minir's open mouth."

Andora winced. "Naughty little boys, talking dirty language like that! Horrendous! Master ell Talaan shall hear of this…"

"Oh no! Don't croak on us Aedan!" the cousins begged.

"Me nnn…not…ah…die," Aedan grunted, pulling himself up a few meters.

"WICKED Aedan! Boomboom 126YOMan!" Kien yelled suddenly.

The boy froze, his arms straining as he held up his weight. "Where, WICKED?"

"8792GOODRight blah-blah2T," Kien said.

"Ah." Aedan dropped down from the shaft and landed beside Andora, rubbing the dirt off his hands and onto his tunic. "Discharge 487309WICKED1/2boom-bye."

"Got it." Kien rummaged through his tunic pocket and produced a small charge and a servotool.

"What's going on?" Andora asked uncomfortably.

"Nothing," Aedan said, leaning back against the wall. "Just gonna watch some WICKED fireworks, maybe roast some bantha meat over a big, two hundred meter fire. Nothing incredibly GOOD."

"Fire? Little brother, you'd better notify me what you're blathering about…"

Kien jammed the servotool back into his belt and handed Aedan the charge. "Done."

Aedan pushed himself off the wall and turned away from Andora. "Me do not recall ever being addressed as 'little brother' or any such degrading title. My name is WICKED WICKED King of WICKED Truly WICKED Aedan WICKED King WICKED of WICKED. I have no other name. If you wish to WICKEDLY converse with me, you will address me by my title."

"But…"

"Fully. No deletion of any WICKEDS, lest you imply that I am not the WICKED of the WICKEDEST."

"Aedan –––"

He handed the explosive to Jahn Pal, who looked at it curiously. "Ooh, what is this, a teeny little ball for my amusement?" the Wicked Club's genius asked.

"No, GOOD, it is a thermal detonator, capable of making you spontaneously combust if you mess with it like that," Aedan said.

"Oh, it's a highly volatile metal ball that I must hit Sai'wer with, so that he will spontaneously combust, instead of me?" Jahn Pal said.

Kien, Minir, Andora and Aedan exchanged looks that clearly said, _these kids are morons._

"No, you little GOOD, I don't want you to croak, and I don't want you to throw that WICKED thing at your WICKED cousin," Aedan explained. "But I would like you to throw it at Minir's head."

"What?!" Minir screamed, lunging at the grinning youth.

"Okay," Jahn Pal said, hefting the detonator in his right hand. "But will his brains splatter all over me if I throw the ball at him?"

"Aedan, I don't see how killing off hapless Minir is going to ameliorate matters," Andora said. "Furthermore, it is foolhardy to hand a highly volatile explosive to a small, ignorant child, who no doubt does not even know how to throw properly, and will most likely miss and hit one of us instead."

"Very GOOD," Aedan said. "You have the picture exactly."

"But –––"

"Fire away, WICKED Jahn Pal!" The Wicked King called out.

"GOOD!" Minir shrieked.

Jahn Pal chucked the charge into the air. The thermal flew upward, several meters shy of Minir's head. Instead of hitting its target, the explosive sailed in a perfect arc toward the blue beam that was emanating from the hidden trip mine.

Aedan was the first to react. Shoving Jahn Pal out of the way, he held out his hand, calling upon the Force. The ball stopped, suspended in midair.

Minir, Andora, Kien and the cousins stared at the floating detonator, mesmerized. Aedan glanced once in their direction, drew his right leg into his chest, turned on his heel, and kicked Minir in the stomach. "Go, you GOODS, it's gonna blow!"

Andora wrenched her gaze from the activated detonator and stumbled backward. The lights on the explosive began to blink rapidly. Andora tripped over a protruding chunk of metal as she fell out of the turbolift, pulling an astonished Jahn Pal and Sai'wer after her.

_BOOM._

The impact of the thermal hitting the trip mine caused the cousins to lose their balance, falling awkwardly right onto her stomach. Andora winced as their weight pressed her into the hard floor. "Ow! Get off me, you vagabonds! Bantha-brains! Little puppy dogs! Overgrown gorgs!" She threw them off her, disdainfully brushing off her tunic as she stood up and backed away from them.

"Ah, GOOD job, Jahn Pal, hitting Minir in the head," Sai'wer said to his companion. "Look ––– you gave him such a headache that his guts are hurting."

"GOODS! Get out of here!" Kien shouted, rolling out into the open. "Aedan released the thermal detonator! We WICKEDS must flee, or we will be roasted like banthas on spits!"

"But what about Aedan and Minir?" Andora demanded. "We can't just forsake them in there to incinerate."

"We can," Jahn Pal murmured. "All we have to do is walk away…me don't feel like going in there and saving them…me hungry. Me like bantha roasted on spit…"

"Me, too," Sai'wer piped up.

"ROAR!" Aedan leaped through the turbolift doorway, dragging Minir, who was clutching at his stomach and howling in pain.

"You stinkin' GOOD! Trying to kill WICKED old Minir! Tormenting WICKED old Minir by giving him digestive problems! Get your GOOD hands off me, Marishani sleemo…"

"Stop cursing me in Huttese, Miss Anthrope!" Aedan shrieked as the floor continued to rock underneath their feet. "Me NOT a GOOD bounty hunter scum! Me name Aedan! Do not call me Aedan though. My title is WICKED WICKED Truly WICKED WICKED Aedan Kenobi WICKED…"

She felt sweat bead on her hairline as smoke and orange flames poured out of the shaft. The trip mine was causing the whole level to implode.

"…WICKED Aquahawk fan that is WICKED WICKED UNGOODLY WICKED Jedi WICKED…"

Suddenly, Andora raised her open hand and smacked her brother across the mouth, startling him into silence. Grabbing Jahn Pal and Sai'wer by the ears, Andora turned to the rest as a chunk of flaming durasteel fell at their feet. "Run, you idiots, or we're all doomed!"

Aedan recovered from the shock of having a "good" girl hit him in the face. "GOOD!" he yelled as burning fragments of the building rained down upon them. "That didn't even hurt! If you're going to punch me, hit WICKEDER for star's sake!"

Andora chose to ignore him. Running, ducking, and dodging, she dragged herself and the cousins through the smoking rubble as the ceiling continued to fall on them. Sawdust, ash, and smoke filled her mouth and nose and lungs. Her breath grew more labored as she pushed her physical strength farther. Up ahead, she saw a window. The building wasn't that high up; maybe they could jump out.

"Andora, do rocks fly?" Sai'wer asked wearily.

"Of course not," Andora said distractedly. "Rocks are predominantly static entities, except, of course, for those circumgyrating in space…"

"Ah, so that explains why a rock is flying toward us."

She looked up.

Only to see that the ceiling over the window was collapsing onto them.


	15. Cadaver Encounter

**chapter 15**

"Ah, us WICKED boys have the most important assignment of them all, young lad," Terry said to Na'thin as they stepped through the double doors of the medical center. "I can hear them now: 'WICKED Terry and his cohort WICKED Na'thin brave GOOD terrors of a medical center to retrieve medicine that saves countless thousands from croaking'…"

"But there's only eight of us that need the antidote, excluding GOOD old Kan," Na'thin pointed out.

"Sh," Terry hissed. "Your ruining it. Adds WICKEDNESS to the situation. Urgency. Drama…"

"Okay, okay," Na'thin said. "Let's just get the antidote and get outta here. My WICKED stomach has been roaring at me all day."

"Perhaps, WICKED, I can fix that for you." Terry cupped his hands around his mouth. "GOOD! GOOD? Where are you, you GOOD old medic?"

"Maybe he'd respond if you called his name, WICKED Terry," Na'thin suggested.

"Ah, WICKED idea, Na'thin. Big Fat Idiotic GOOD! We need some WICKED antidote, you big imbecile! Oh, womp rats," Terry sputtered, punching his fist into the air. "The GOOD isn't going to answer."

"Do we really need this medicine?" Na'thin asked. "We've all been doing WICKEDLY; All our lungs are still WICKEDLY functioning."

Terry frowned. "Master WICKED King Aedan said to bring back elixir. His word cannot be GOODLY disobeyed. We bring it to him, or croak trying."

Na'thin sighed, leaning against the database. "Ah, so much for avoiding GOOD old chores. Hey," he said, looking at the computer screen.

"Hey, what, WICKED?" Terry asked absent-mindedly, as he began to rummage through the medical cabinet. "Ooh, lethal surgical equipment. WICKED. Hey, I think this tool is WICKED enough to rip someone's throat open. Sweet."

"_Yal Uher recently discovered that Actin 3 is not a chemical compound, as it was first_ _guessed to be_," Na'thin read. "_Rather, they discovered that it is a host of viruses, living in symbiosis with_ _the Pyronites living in the mountains. _Hey, what's a Pyronite, WICKED Terry?"

"Pyronite? What're you reading, ancient history?" Terry asked. "Pyronites are mythical creatures, said to live in the very hearts of volcanoes. Some say their bodies are made entirely out of lava. But it's more GOOD legend than plain straight WICKED fact. Why do you ask?"

"This database is WICKEDLY saying that something called Actin 3 is a cloud of viruses living in symbiosis with Pyronites living in the volcanoes," Na'thin said.

Terry extracted himself from the assortment of surgical tools and looked over Na'thin's shoulder. "Blah-blah-blah, her Majesty has ordered that the volcanoes be blocked off from any tourism…goo goo gah gah, blah-blah-blah-blah…oh, here's something. _There is no known vaccine for this virus, which upon contacting an organism, begins to shut down the being's systems, one by one, until the host dies. After lytic infection, the virus produces spores that are released into the air, infecting any organism that it lands on._ Aw, come on man, this is GOOD stuff. Not worth staring at."

"Wait," Na'thin jabbed a laserpointer at a sentence near the end of the file. "It WICKEDLY says here that though an organism is beyond cure once infected, they may yet be able to prevent the virus from spreading by resorting to homeopathic methods. What does that mean? Is it WICKED?"

"No, it's GOOD," Terry said, standing up. "Let's WICKEDLY stop looking at GOOD files and look for the GOOD old medic."

"Okay." Na'thin's hands flew over the keys as he closed the file and switched off the database. "Can't let anyone GOOD know that we saw this…"

Terry walked up to a door at the other end of the room. He squinted at the lettering. "This is the GOOD old office. I'm going in. Na'thin, you WICKEDLY check out the emergency room, okay?"

"WICKED," Na'thin said as Terry rudely pushed his way into the office.

The redhead gingerly stepped through the imposing metal doors of the emergency center, quietly closing them as he turned and surveyed the sparsely furnished room. Two med cocoons, a few fold-up cots stacked against the wall, a tray holding various surgical equipment, and a simple sleep couch were all that took up the spotless, shining space.

Na'thin squinted against the white glare of glowlamps as he tiptoed toward the med cocoons. He placed his hands on the edge of the material and peeked into the interiors of the cocoons. Nothing.

A rustling of a bed-sheet made him whirl around and face the sleep couch. Sprawled across the hard frame of the bed, face drawn, lips pale and slack, eyelids dark with weariness, lay Kan.

Na'thin crept closer. Kan's dark head was motionless against the clean brightness of the pillow; his hands hung off the edge of the bed. His mouth was moving silently, as if speaking to someone in a dream. Na'thin leaned closer.

"…Adriaan…jump over him…that's right, swing wide, do a snap kick to the head…I'm coming…just let me get up…" Kan groaned and rolled over, displaying a respiratory monitor across his chest. A long, clear tube hooked the boy up with a machine, which was pumping oxygen into his lungs. A rhythmic beeping came from the monitor, showing his heart rate. Na'thin lifted up the sheet to look at the reading.

"Heart rate still pretty GOOD," he muttered.

"Aedan…Andora…Actin 3…" Kan murmured.

Na'thin reached out and gently touched the boy's forehead. It was cold and damp with sweat. His usually beautiful, deeply tanned skin had paled to a sickly white hue. "Klamin…no don't…don't touch her…Adriaan!" he flung his hand on the coverlet and started to kick the sheet off the couch.

"Peace, GOOD, peace," Na'thin said, easing the coverlet back over Kan's tired body. "Nay-un. Ah-men. Nay-un haray neo," he crooned in the old Coruscanti dialect. "Naaaayyy-un. Naaaaayyyy-o."

"Aedan?" Kan asked. "Where is my Master? He has passed on; he is beyond my sight. I can no longer see him."

"He? Adriaan is a girl –––" he caught his mistake in time. Of course; Kan was speaking not of the GOOD Adriaan, but of his old Master…Ruru? Yes, that was the name. Kan was delirious ––– in his dreams, he did not realize that Ruru was dead.

"WICKED Ruru has gone where us WICKEDS cannot go," Na'thin said.

The invalid's eyelids fluttered slightly. "When will he come back?"

"He does not come back. We must be the WICKED ones to go to him. But not now, silly little GOOD. Sleep, my WICKED, neo nay-un…"

Na'thin stood up, smoothing the bed sheet. He had to get back to his job. Terry thought that the datafile with the info about Actin 3 was worthless. However, Na'thin did not agree with Aedan's second-in-command. He knew that that datafile was useful; he had to get it out of that computer, somehow, and take it to Aedan. Aedan would see its worth ––– and the Wicked King would reward him. Maybe even make Na'thin second-in-command…

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! G-G-G-G-G-G-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-D-D-D-D-D-D!!!!!!"

Na'thin burst through the doors of the emergency room. "Coming, WICKED Terry!"

He pushed through the heavy metal door of the medic's office. Terry stood in the middle of the floor, an opened bottle filled with a brownish fluid in his hand. Some of the liquid had left a stain around his mouth; the rest of the fluid had spilled onto the floor. But he was not looking at the medicine ––– he was staring at a huge white shape sprawled upon the floor.

It was the medic.

Without warning, Na'thin suddenly barreled into the petrified Terry and snatched the bottle, sniffing its contents apprehensively. "Were you WICKED and read the label before you consumed this GOOD stuff?" he asked Terry.

The blond shrugged. "Labels GOOD."

The Wicked Club's con artist snorted his disapproval and began to read the contents of the bottle. Luckily, it turned out that all the ingredients were harmless ––– in fact, it was exactly the medicine they had been sent for ––– it was the homeopathic antidote for labored breathing. Na'thin sighed with relief and pocketed the bottle. Man, that Terry was an idiot; he might've consumed a drug or a toxin instead.

"Well, did the world GOODLY come to an end?" Terry asked sarcastically, yet he was eyeing the bottle with a hint of suspicion. Na'thin's attitude about the fluid had let doubt enter his mind.

The smaller boy noticed the expression on Terry's face. It was too irresistible for Na'thin's mischievous nature; he couldn't pass up this perfect opportunity for a prank.

He forced his face to resume its expression of seriousness. "Oh, Terry," he said, letting his hand fly up to his mouth in shock.

"What, WICKED?" Terry asked uncomfortably.

"Oh, I'm afraid it's too GOODLY late to do anything now…"

"Do what? What happened? Speak, GOOD!" Terry said, grabbing Na'thin by the collar. "Am I going to croak? Will I fall in love with the first girl I see? Will I lose my ability to use the Force?"

"Oh, no, it's much GOODER than that," Na'thin said ominously.

"What, then, you stinkin' bantha fodder? What?"

"It is a homeopathic poison, a poison that is potent only to the WICKED ones," Na'thin said. "The toxin enters the bloodstream, garbling the chemical messengers within the organism, sending false commands to the brain, which in turn, programs the being to become a GOOD."

"What?" Terry screamed. "That's impossible!"

"But it isn't." Na'thin was enjoying this thoroughly. "Look, your WICKED muscles are already beginning to shrink. Ooh, you've got some pretty girly biceps…"

"GOOD! Me never GOOD! _You _GOOD! Toxin doesn't work! Me always forever WICKED! Me would die before I ever betrayed the friends that I have slept in the same cradle with! Me would die before me left WICKED Aedan and became a GOOD!"

"WICKED," Na'thin said, putting his hand upon Terry's shoulder. "Now, I suggest that we WICKEDLY take this breathing antidote to the WICKED King." He pulled the bottle out of his pocket.

Terry's eyes widened. "But it would infect the weaker WICKEDS with the GOODNESS…"

"GOODNESS? WICKEDNESS you mean!" Na'thin said. "WICKED job finding this stuff; now Andora no longer has to worry about any of us hyperventilating."

"Hyperventilating –––?" Terry's eyes widened with understanding. He grinned sheepishly. "Oh, I get it: don't be GOOD and drink something you don't know."

Na'thin winked, unscrewing the bottle and swallowing a few drops of the liquid. He felt the antidote course through his body like cool, refreshing water. "Exactly."

Terry looked down at the medic's body. "What, in all GOODNESS, do you suppose happened to him?" he said, his voice a bit shaky. "He seemed WICKEDLY fine half a WICKED hour ago."

Na'thin bent down and sniffed at the corpse. He gagged as an overwhelming stench of rotten, diseased flesh, seeped through his nostrils and down into his throat. "Bleh," he groaned. "He's already begun to GOODLY rot. There's not even a GOOD old mark on his body, either. It ain't nature, it ain't WICKED, for a body to decay after being dead for less than half an hour."

"Maybe he just croaked because he wanted to know what it was like," Terry suggested, examining the medic closely.

"Nah, as idiotic and GOOD as he was, he wouldn't be so insanely UNWICKED as to do something like that," Na'thin interjected, beginning to feel uncomfortable so near a dead person. If the medic had to be so GOOD as to croak on them, couldn't he have at least closed his eyes so that he didn't look so _creepy? _A dead person that looked asleep ––– that looked like it was _resting_ ––– Na'thin could take the sight of. But a corpse with its eyes open and staring at you in that blank, disembodied sort of way…that was a different matter.

"Poor GOOD old guy," Terry said, his back to Na'thin as he peered at the arms of the deceased. "No wonder he never got a GOOD girlfriend."

"Eh?" Na'thin asked, looking around. "Why do you say that?"

"He has these ugly, WICKED-looking zits and moles and stuff all over his skin."

Na'thin's blood ran cold. "_Zits_?"

"Yeah, all over him ––– on his GOOD old wrinkled hands, his face, his arms, even on his stinky, hairy, GOOD armpits. Man, he needs deodorant GOOD-time –––"

Na'thin whirled around and almost knocked over his companion in his haste to take a look at the body. Na'thin was a bookworm ––– if he saw something with letters on it, he instinctively dropped everything he was doing, just to read it. Advertisements, science magazines, a datapad just lying around ––– the little thief had his hands on it in no time. Because of this, he was a walking encyclopedia. Terry's description of the corpse set a bell off in his mind ––– he had read something like that before. A disease or a disorder of some sort, caused by a virus that was known to live in volcanic environments. Could it be…?

He bent down cautiously so that he was eye level with the body. Wrapping his hands in his tunic sleeves, he reached out and gingerly lifted up an arm for closer examination.

He sucked his breath in so sharply that he lost his balance and tumbled onto his back. Doing a quick back roll, he stood up and began to tug at Terry's arm. "My WICKED, we must get out."

Terry raised his eyebrows quizzically. "Why? Afraid of catching a few WICKED pimples? They aren't contagious, silly. See ––– I'll rub my hands on him to WICKEDLY show you…"

"No, you GOOD!" Na'thin slapped the boy's hand away. "That isn't acne! Those are virulent, GOOD, contagious, diseased pustules!"

"Pustules? Same WICKED old thing as acne –––" Terry said.

"No, GOOD, they are _virulent _pustules! Poisonous vesicles! GOOD!"

"GOOD?" Terry jerked involuntarily to his feet. "Contagious? What is it?" he glanced at Na'thin warily. "This is not another WICKED joke, is it?"

"No," Na'thin said quickly. "See, my WICKED ––– the vesicles are groups of cells infected by a virus ––– by the shape and size, I'd have to WICKEDLY identify them as _Viricel Actinius, _a deadly virus that effects both epidermis and organ cell growth and function. We've got to WICKEDLY get out of here, and fast ––– if it is truly _Actinius, _we're probably infected by now."

"What?" Terry had never looked so terrified in his life.

"It is strange, the physical make-up of this WICKED microorganism," Na'thin said. "Like most viruses, it depends on its cell host to carry out its life functions. But WICKEDLY unlike other viruses, it reproduces by forming structures that release billions of GOOD spores into the air, immediately infecting any organism in close vicinity."

Terry squinted into space, looked at the dead Zylxxian, at Na'thin, then at his hands. "Me don't see any GOOD old spores floating around…"

"They're UNWICKEDLY and inconveniently microscopic, WICKED Terry," he replied. "Even us WICKEDS can't see them."

Suddenly an explosion rent the air, knocking both of them off their feet and diving headfirst into the medic. Na'thin screamed and struggled free of the body, the smell of sweat, dirt, and the sickeningly sweet rot of death filling his lungs. Terry grunted, his face buried in the medic's chalk-white tunic. Na'thin stood up and dragged Terry free of the suffocating cloth, even as the walls came tumbling in around them.

"GOOD! We have to get out!" Na'thin gasped. The floor continued to quake beneath their feet, making it next to impossible to stand. They dropped to the floor, crawling through the ash and rubble towards the exit.

They rolled out into the center's waiting area, their lungs screaming for fresh air. Na'thin inhaled deeply, only to choke at the foulness of the air. Tears were streaming down Terry's face, whether it was from the smoke or the terror of death, Na'thin could not tell. All he knew was that they had to get out of there. Fast.

"Come on, WICKED, we've got to get to the turbolift!" Terry yelled, stumbling out the door and into the crumbling hallway.

Just then, the younger boy heard an ear-shattering crack from up above. He looked up, only to see that a ten meter brick had dislodged from the ceiling and was falling down into the hallway, blocking their escape to the turbolift. Pushing Terry out of the stone's way, he ran down the corridor in the opposite direction. They had to get away from the falling debris. Klamin had spoken of some WICKED passages beneath the planet's surface. Maybe he and Terry could find refuge there, at least until the earthquake, or whatever it was, stopped.

Up ahead, he saw a low passageway branching off from the main hall. Beyond the doorway, there were steps, leading downward into blackness. But as spooky and foreboding as it looked, they had no time to have any second thoughts about going down. One thing was for sure: it couldn't possibly be as GOOD as getting smushed by gargantuan bricks.

Terry grabbed Na'thin by the hand and ducked into the passageway.


	16. AAR After Action Review

** chapter 16**

Klamin sat up, wiping the blood and sweat from his eyes. "Good work, Jedi, though a little too close for comfort."

Adriaan wasn't listening to him. She walked across the space, toward the body that was sprawled upon the iridescent tiles, their reflective surface now marred by a ruby-colored stain. She knelt down on the floor, placing her head in her left hand, her right hand reaching out and closing the glazed eyes of the Weequay. Seeing her dead enemy curling up on the ground, she remembered that she had told her Master, so long ago…

_"No matter how many times I kill someone, the grief is no less. Why is that, Master?"_

_ "It is because you are weak, my Padawan. Take joy in your revenge; rejoice when those who are your enemies succumb to their fate. For they are standing in your way ––– standing in the way of your glory. Kill them all, without feeling, and they will come to know and fear you. But only if you learn that taking a life is not evil…"_

_ Deep inside her, she had thought, "But taking a life IS evil. We did not give life to beings, so neither can we take it, unless in absolute necessity. We cannot kill just for the heck of it."_

She could feel Klamin behind her, standing off to one side. She could sense his confusion. But she could not blame him. He was not a Jedi; he would not understand why she grieved the death of her enemies…

She felt a touch on her shoulder, and she slowly stood and turned around to face the Zylxxian. For a moment they stared at one another in silence, as if unsure of what to say next. She sensed a disquiet in him, something that he was hiding…

"He was able to transmit the information," Adriaan said finally. "Whatever that information was."

"I'll investigate the archives," Klamin said. "If I find that something is missing from the files, that could give us a lead as to what type of info he sent to his troops."

"That's good…" Adriaan stopped suddenly as the familiar word rose to her mind. _GOOD. Aedan. My Padawans. They're all dead…_

Klamin caught the look on her face immediately. "Let's go downstairs…to look."

*****

The Queen's staff had been alerted shortly after the eruption, so by the time Klamin and Adriaan had made it back to the damaged level, a Nebula firefighting squad was already there, putting out the fire and cleaning up the debris so that the construction workers could begin working on the level, as soon as it could be considered safe.

Adriaan had been expecting to find absolutely nothing left of the Wicked Club, or at the most, a few fragments of charred bone and cloth. But that still did not keep her from hoping ––– praying, that somehow, they survived. For though in her mind she had no doubt that the explosion had caused their demise, in her heart, she felt that they still lived. That was why she still looked ––– she would not give in unless she was sure that the Wicked Club had truly met their end.

So she was astounded beyond belief when she found six whole, healthy Padawan learners, all the worse for wear, struggling to extract themselves from the rubble. Aedan wiped the ash and sweat from his face and smiled cheerfully at his Master. "Hello, WICKED," he said pleasantly. "WICKED day for blowing up trip mines, eh?"

"Aedan Kenobi!" Adriaan said, still speechless from the reality of their survival. No ––– this had to be a dream, or more accurately, a nightmare ––– that explosion would have pulverized a kell dragon, let alone six helpless children…

_They aren_'_t helpless. They are Apprentices, who know the ways of the Force. Would you call someone who was in tune with the Force helpless?_

"GOOD GOOD GOOD," Aedan said, shaking his finger at her. "How many times must I tell you big, GOOD folk, that my mother named me Aedan, but I refuse to be addressed by that name, as my correctly WICKED title is –––"

"WICKED WICKED truly WICKED WICKED Aedan Kenobi WICKED and some more WICKEDS, and something about biggest fanatic of the aquahawks, and some more WICKEDS on the side," Adriaan said.

"Why, yes," Aedan said. "I am shocked ––– you know my name perfectly WICKEDLY."

"Wicked Aedan," Adriaan said. "What the blazers were you thinking, setting off that trip mine? You could've been killed!"

"Killed? Not I, GOOD! I am W-W-W-W-I-I-I-I-C-C-C-C-K-K-K-K-E-E-E-E-D-D-D-D!!!! I never croak because I am not a GOOD like the rest of you –––"

"WICKED Aedan! Help!" Minir's voice said feebly from behind a large chunk of rock.

"No, we don't need help, do we, Sai'wer?" they heard Jahn Pal say.

"We are suspended over at least thirty meters of empty space, our combined weight ––– which is approximately eighty-four point eight kilograms ––– is being held up by a simple, grumpy, weak, misanthrope," Sai'wer said. "No, I don't think we need any help."

"Thirty meters of space? But we're on the first level," Adriaan said, moving in the direction of the voices.

"I can explain that," Klamin said. "Like I said before, there is a whole network of tunnels beneath the surface. The floor probably caved into one of the tunnels."

"Minir, let go of my pants," Sai'wer said indignantly.

"Minir? Where are you? Come out!" Adriaan called.

"I would if I could, GOOD, but it's not conveniently WICKED for me right now," Minir grunted in reply.

Just then she spotted Minir crouching amid the rubble, holding onto something that was obviously very heavy. Stepping closer to him, she discovered that he was holding onto two pairs of pants, and both articles of clothing were suspended over a large, yawning hole in the floor.

"Supernovas and quasars," Adriaan murmured. "Minir, what are the cousins doing, hanging over that hole?"

"Exactly what I'm trying to WICKEDLY figure out," Minir puffed, straining his arm muscles as he fought to keep himself from pitching headfirst into the opening. "Man, you GOODS, can't you guys abstain from having fifth helpings at dinnertime, to save poor, WICKED Minir's back?"

"No," Jahn Pal said. "Because that would be punishing our stomachs."

"And whenever we punish our tummies –––" Sai'wer said.

" ––– They scream at us. Loud," Jahn Pal finished.

"Off-topic," Adriaan said firmly, moving forward to help the struggling boy. "I've got them, Minir."

Minir let go willingly as Adriaan grasped the pants in his stead. "Careful, you GOOD," he said. "Their leggings were beginning to slip off."

Adriaan closed her eyes, her face pale. "Oh, no."

"Ow, my leggings are falling off," Jahn Pal said. "Me must be getting skinny and starved from lack of food."

Adriaan suddenly yanked them out of the hole and threw them onto safe ground, nearly ripping their pants off in the process. Jahn Pal and Sai'wer immediately started to suck their thumbs contentedly.

"Thank you, pretty lady," Jahn Pal said.

"Thag oo," Sai'wer mumbled, his mouth stuffed with his large, chubby thumb.

"Why are you thanking me? I only saved you idiots from breaking your necks because if I had let you die, it wouldn't be good for my reputation," Adriaan snapped.

"Whoa, chill, baby," Kien said. "What did we do to make you act like, well, like Mmmmmmm…"

"…Minir," Minir finished, his lips tight. "Admit it ––– I know that was what you were going to GOODLY say. But, like all other GOODS, you were too much of a coward to say it to my WICKED face."

"Ah, hah hah hah," Kien said, backing away uncomfortably. "That's hilarious ––– WICKED, Minir. I was, uh, just going to say that she was acting as grumpy as a _Mommy, _yes, that was it. How would you ever compare to a grump, Minir? You are so funny and cheerful and WICKED and happy –––"

". Not. Funny." Minir punched each syllable into the air. "I am mean. I am evil. I am cruel. I am W-W-W-W-I-I-I-I-C-C-C-C-K-K-K-K-E-E-E-E-D-D-D-D!!!!"

"Oh Hoh hoh! That's a WICKED one! Hah!" Kien chortled nervously.

"Hah hah," Jahn Pal and Sai'wer said in monotone. "Hee hee. Hoh hoh. Huh huh."

"Mwah-hah-hah-hah-hah!" Aedan exploded into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

"I don't get how wanting to be mean and cruel and wicked is hilarious," Andora said.

"Me, neither," Adriaan replied. "You bantha-brains! Screaming khaulers! You guys think that you're all that, don't you? Well, you're not! If I wasn't held responsible for your safety, I would be tempted to prove once and for all that you are mortal beings like the rest of us!"

"I dare you," Aedan challenged, withdrawing his lightsaber.

But she laughed. "It is impossible not to take you lightly, young one. Put away your saber, _now._"

He put away his weapon, shrugging as if to say, _I don't care about what you say, but I will obey you for now._

"What is this? Is it a custom for Jedi children to run rampaging through buildings, blowing up an entire level, to say nothing of breaking windows, antiques, furniture, and wall decor, and then openly revolt against their Master?" Epi'do suddenly materialized out of the gloom, blaster rifle drawn and pointed at Aedan. "Seriously ––– I expected more out of you than this."

"Aw, c'mon, Epi," Klamin said, stepping forward. "You really can't blame these kids for tearing up the place ––– that Weequay Joh-ma –––"

"Ah, Hyrax's '_capable' _advisor," Epi'do turned and looked down his nose at the Zylxxian. "You smell like a sweaty teenage boy; something I would not associate with the words 'capable' or 'advisor'"

Klamin shrugged. "Hey, I at least I use my time efficiently. I am helpful because I don't waste time taking showers, applying body perfume, and putting on snappy clothes, like some of the officials here." He stared pointedly at Epi'do.

The Captain's neck flushed purplish-red at the taunt buried in Klamin's remark. "Fool," he said. "I know your games ––– so it's no use playing them on me. Where is the Weequay?"

"Dead," Adriaan said. "We killed him in the hangar."

Epi'do glared at her. "Since when did I ask you to speak for him? I did not order you to kill the spy! He was carrying valuable information! Now we have lost it –––"

"First, I do not recall pledging my obedience to the Nebula," Adriaan said. "Second, since you seem to know so much about what Joh-ma was carrying, perhaps you know him. If you were acquainted with him, then please, enlighten us poor, ignorant children."

His face was black with rage. "How dare you accuse me of being disloyal to my Queen!"

"How dare _you _accuse us of vandalism!" Adriaan retorted.

He strode forward and stood about five centimeters from her face. "Because **I **am older, **I **am the right hand of her Majesty, and **I **am in charge here!"

"Since when did Hyrax die and make you boss?" Klamin said.

Epi'do glanced at him, his mouth curved in a menacing, secretive smile. "I fear that Klamin forgets that Hyrax is, after all, an immigrant and furthermore a child inexperienced in the political arena."

"If she is inexperienced, why did she win the election?" Adriaan asked. "Because the polls were rigged, by someone who wanted a young ruler, a ruler that could be led around like a puppet on a string? Someone like you, maybe?"

Klamin looked at her sharply. A grin of triumph rose to her lips as Epi'do's face went from red to chalk-white to a sick greenish-blue. From his reaction, Adriaan guessed that she had hit close to the truth.

There was a soft click as Epi'do cocked his rifle and jammed the muzzle of the blaster into her stomach. "That is a bold accusation, _little girl,_" he said, his voice ominously soft. "You dare to label me as an underhanded dealer, swaying the minds of the people, so that they become like droids bent to my will ––– never thinking, always obeying, doing only what I, their master, their _idol_, commands them? Who are you, to call me a traitor and a tyrant?"

Her gaze met his, an impossible, mesmerizing blue that stared into his dark eyes, shot with a livid, angry light. He looked into her face, transfixed by her sharp gaze. "Commander, I –––" his lips moved, yet he could not speak another word. The rifle slipped from his grasp and fell clattering to the stones, but he took no notice. Hypnotized, his hand reached out and touched her arm. " ––– did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?" he asked, a new tone in his voice.

Adriaan started, her face coloring as she released her hold on the Force. That remark had been totally unexpected. Not at all how she had wanted him to react. Apparently, the Force mind trick was not working on him. It was her charm.

_Your charm? Don_'_t be so vain. You were never that attractive. _HE _said so._

_ And he was always right, remember?_

"Epi'do, she's a Jedi –––" Klamin said, a warning note in his voice.

Epi'do smiled, his gaze never leaving her face. "Don't be so ridiculous, Klamin. This is no Jedi ––– never was and never will be. What are the Jedi, but grim, hardened old men ––– sorcerers and warriors ––– uncouth and low-bred? Surely, this arresting young woman can be no Jedi. A Queen, sent into exile, perhaps, or even one of the fabled space-angels –––"

Adriaan's eyes locked onto his, her body feeling unbearably hot, as if her very spirit, her will inside her, was in flames. Her anger seethed inside her, boiled in her veins. The dark side rose up inside her ––– she fought to control it, but it was like beating herself against an avalanche of stones. It overcame her in a sickening wave of black fury and terror. Who was he, to debase and insult the Jedi in such a way? And then to reach out his hand and touch ––– no, _caress _her ––– as if she were one of his lap dogs. His effrontery was downright offensive.

The Captain's face suddenly paled, and his hands flew up to the collar of his uniform. Gasping, he struggled to loosen the top buttons of his coat.

"Little One…" he panted.

"Don't call me 'little one'!" she snapped. She could feel his heart now, between her hands, thumping slower, slower…

"What –––" Klamin looked from Adriaan to the suffocating Epi'do. "You're choking him. Leave off, Commander."

"Choking him? How could I? I am not even touching him," Adriaan lied automatically, mentally squeezing Epi'do's throat harder.

"I dunno ––– I just know that you are, somehow, killing him," Klamin said. "Telekinetically, perhaps. I've heard of it before ––– of the Sith stopping the hearts of their victims by just one look…"

_Sith? Is that what he is comparing me to? I am no sith ––– surely he must see that._

_ "If he sees, then he knows."_

_ Knows what?_

_ "He sees what your actions are making you become. Take care ––– remember what happened to your Master…"_

She let out a deep sigh as her power over the dark side fled from her being…though she knew that if she were not more careful in the future, the dark side would return to her, and it would be stronger. More perilous to handle. She had to stop doing this ––– clutching at the shreds of the dark side like a child reaching out to touch power couplings. For she was not supposed to be an inexperienced student anymore ––– she was supposed to be a Jedi.

The Nebula Captain crumpled to the floor, his chest expanding as he took in grateful breaths of the smoky air. To her surprise, Adriaan found herself covered in sweat and panting for breath also, as if she had just finished a strenuous work out. Did the dark side of the Force cause her to feel this sudden weariness?

She leaned against the wall, gasping painfully. Klamin quickly kicked Epi'do aside with one of his Mak'oki and reached out one tentacled arm to support her. "Commander?"

His breath was on her neck; the warm puff of air on her skin sent prickles down her spine. His eyes gazed at her keenly ––– she could sense his concern. In spite of the darkness of his eyes, his gaze seemed unbearably intense. She bent her head, averting her blue eyes, which had stared down many a daring being.

Even in her discomfort, Adriaan saw the humor in it. _What is wrong with me? _She laughed at herself, _I was able to scare every other man that came my way by just one look ––– what makes me so vulnerable to this Zylxxian? _

She glanced at the tentacle that Klamin had gently laid on her arm. Her face reddened with shame. Klamin was _pitying _her. But what did he pity about her? Her weakness? Her sadness? Her anger?

Whatever it was, it suddenly made the Mak'Oki revolting. The touch on her arm made her flesh crawl. She did not need or want his _pity. _She was a Jedi ––– she was tired of everyone underestimating her power. For she was strong, _strong _––– she did not need anyone to care for her. Her Master never concerned himself with her, and those that had loved her had all faded from her life…they had all died long ago. And so she had lived ––– unloved and uncared for. She had survived without those things, so why would she need them now? Straightening, she abruptly shrugged him away and moved away from him. His tentacle drew back, as if slapped. He looked at her ––– was it remorse that she saw etched into his face? Had she hurt him with her brusqueness? Did he feel as though she thought that he was loathsome?

_I should say sorry. _The words rose to her lips, but she could not find her voice to say them. It sounded so awkward, that one little word ––– the one when people hissed through their teeth and then opened up their mouth and said, _"Sorry"_

_ Do I even remember how to apologize? I haven't heard that word in so long…maybe I've never heard it. No wonder I can't say it. Is that why I have so many enemies?_

Just then, to her uttermost relief, the comlink on her utility belt signaled. She whipped it out and flipped it open, scanning the caller I.D. Adriaan's breath sucked in sharply. It was the clone commander, Urak. He was supposed to alert her if they met with any trouble. This couldn't be good.

Stepping over the prone form of Epi'do, she strode off a little ways so that she was out of her companions' earshot. Pressing the volume button to the lowest setting, she held it up to her lips. "What's up?" Adriaan asked, careful to keep her voice low.

"City is in lockdown…ambushed…left flank…sector 7…" the static nearly drowned out his voice. The connection was bad. Maybe it had something to do with the atmospheric conditions on this planet. "…Assault cruisers starting…countdown…troops awaiting…marching to sector 7…"

"Sector 7? Troops awaiting? Awaiting what? I didn't get a report from the scouts," Adriaan said. "Who told you to march out into sector 7?"

"We received a distress signal from the reconnaissance squad," Urak replied. "Separatist troops ambushed them…intercepted information…forced landing by command of General Joh-ma of…Nebula…"

She slammed the comlink into her open fist, inwardly cursing herself. That Joh-ma had done a lot in the last few hours of his life. He must have stolen a Nebula identity from Hyrax's database to pull off the stunt. With that identity, he would have been able to gain access to almost any file in the city. He must have somehow traced the comm signals of the scouts as they were given their orders from the command bridge, and then he had sent out a squad of droids to take them out. Then, using his Nebula identity, he contacted the command bridge and ordered them to land and attack. Knowing that she, their Jedi commander, would be long occupied trying to extricate herself from the extensive Zylxxian ceremonies and traditions, Joh-ma had ordered the clones to attack early, so that she would not be there to guide them. Clones were like droids ––– they needed someone with superior intellectuality to command them.

"Urak, stop that landing countdown now!" she said. "That was a falsely identified Separatist spy who gave you that information. You are walking into a trap."

"…Too late…troops awaiting…march…General Joh-ma gave instructions…begin a direct attack upon…mines…area occupied by work droids…no super battle droids in that sector…"

"That's a lie!" Klamin exclaimed. "Zylxxian POWs need more guarding than just a handful of common battle droids! Spider droids, droidekas, and supers patrol all entrances ––– I've seen it myself. I was sent on a small sortie to scout out the camps ––– just barely got out alive. Don't try it…"

"The CIS must intend to keep us away from the mountain pass on the eastern side if your information is correct…awaiting permission to lead troops into the city from the East…"

"No!" Adriaan said. "I knew Joh-ma…he was too smart to think we wouldn't be able to discover this trick in time ––– he didn't even bother to change his name to cover his tracks ––– he identified himself as General Joh-ma. If he really wanted us to keep away from the eastern pass, he would have used an alias to prevent his cover from blowing. He _wanted _us to discover that he was giving our troops false information. He _intended_ for us to go through the pass. Urak, halt infantry! Postpone further commands now!"

"What is your suggestion then, sir?" There was just a touch of a sneer in the clone's monotonic voice.

"Well, my first suggestion is for you to stop calling me 'sir'" Adriaan began.

"Unallowable, sir," Urak said.

"I know, Urak ––– I was just kidding with you. Don't you get it?"

"I am sorry, sir. Humor was not included in my programming."

She sighed, her gaze traveling towards the heavens for support. "Was Learning included in your programming, at least?"

"Yes, sir…learning makes…soldiers, sir."

"Well, then, I suggest that you learn how to snap out of that dull monotone of yours and learn how to joke ––– at least once in a while."

"What good would that do, sir?"

"It would at least make you a little more tolerable to hang around with."

There was an embarrassed pause on the other end. "I fear the Commander…off-topic," the clone said finally. "…orders, sir?"

Adriaan sighed. Was it impossible to have a friendly conversation with a clone? They just never snapped out of their battle minds long enough to show a little personality. "Stay put," she said. "Don't move; I'll take a swoopbike out to meet you. Don't worry about transmitting your coordinates ––– I'm worried that the Seps will pick up traces of the transmission. So don't discuss any plans via comlink. We may still have the element of surprise to our advantage ––– they think we are going to attack them from the East."

"Very good, sir. Shall I send…pick you up at…city?"

"Nah. I'll find you." The Force would help her with that. "You could send another scout group out ––– though it would be harder for them to sneak into the city now that every blasted droid's eye sensors are peeled. No…just…just stay where you are. I'm on my way." She jammed her comlink into her utility belt, frustrated at herself for not being on the lookout, at the gullibility of her clones, at Joh-ma for playing that one last trick, at Kan for passing out like a little girl…the battle had not even started, and she was tired out.

Epi'do had crept off, but the disheveled group of children ––– her Padawans ––– were still there. _They _didn't look very tired ––– only dirty, as if they had been playing laserball in a pile of mud. They were lucky; they did not have to deal with the same things that she had had to face in her Padawan days. They did not have to sit down and seriously consider whether their Master's lesson was wrong or right…or a mixture of both. They were safe, their future was secure, untroubled by a dark Force connection that could be fed upon the teachings of a mad, vain, brutal mentor. It was not fair.

_ Yet this is how it is._

Suddenly she frowned, perplexed at the scene. Hadn't she left the Temple with more Padawans than this? Hmm ––– Kan was gone, so that left Aedan, Andora, Kien, Minir, the cousins…

"Where is womp rat kid and boy-who-smells-like-a-bantha-carcass?" Adriaan asked.

"Eh?" Aedan's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, you mean sneaky ol' WICKED Na'thin and stinky ol' WICKED Terry?"

"Yes, them," Adriaan said, relieved that she did not have to go through the whole embarrassing procedure of racking her brain for their correct names. Seriously, those wicked idiots sounded and looked too much alike for her to distinguish one from the other. "Where are they?"

"Dunno," Aedan said, shrugging.

"You mean that you don't even know if they're alive?"

"Croaked in the explosion," Minir hinted darkly.

"Nuh-uh!" Aedan and Kien screamed at the same time. "They WICKED!"

Adriaan rolled her eyes. "We'll see about that. You have a comm system set up between you bantha-brains?"

"As a matter of WICKED fact, we WICKEDLY do," Aedan said huffily.

"Me and old WICKED Minir set it up!" Kien said eagerly. "Here, you can use my WICKED ol' comlink."

She took the archaic-looking device, skeptically looking at the rusty power source and the bent transmitter wire. "You're not telling me this piece of junk actually _works, _are you?"

"Yup." Aedan looked offended. "We use only the toppest, WICKEDEST quality –––"

" ––– Parts from a trash heap," Minir finished.

Adriaan glared darkly at them, her fingers tapping impatiently upon the device.

"Uh…the number for Terry is three two one five seven two," Kien supplied, trying to be helpful.

She nodded, punching in the sequence. "Terry, do you copy?" she hissed softly into the transmitter.

The receiver answered with a burst of static.

"Wow, this comlink works _sooo _well," Adriaan said sarcastically to Aedan. He shrugged his shoulders sullenly. "Terry, this is your Master: Do you copy?" Adriaan said loudly.

_Buzz. Crackle. Crackle._

Aedan's face was a shade paler; Kien looked uncomfortable, and the genius boys looked like they were about to cry. Exchanging a grim smile of triumph with Klamin and Andora, she tried to get hold of Terry one more time. "Hey, big fat idiotic imbecile, pick up your comlink and answer me right now!"

She nearly toppled over backwards when she heard a voice on the other end. "Yes, GOOD?"

"It works!" Kien shouted, obviously just as doubtful as she was of the comlink's capabilities.

"Of course it works, GOOD," Minir said. "I built it."

"Terry, where in all black holes are you?" Adriaan asked.

"First of all, this ain't WICKED Terry, this is WICKEDER Na'thin," the boy said. "Second of all, if you wish to converse with us WICKEDS, use unproper, WICKED language."

Adriaan groaned. "Where are you, WICKEDER Na'thin?"

Another voice popped into the frequency. "He's not WICKEDER, he's just plain old WICKED," Terry said. "I'm WICKEDER."

"Nuh-uh!" Na'thin shot back. "Anyway, in answer to your question, we are here."

"Where is here?"

"Ahem."

"I mean ––– Where, oh WICKED, is here?"

"Where you are. But we are here, which is not where you WICKEDLY are. Oh, when is snack-time? I'm GOODLY starving. There ain't nothing down here in these dark tunnels…just cobwebs and dust and cobwebs and lizards and spiders and cobwebs and other GOOD things."

"Oh, that must mean that they're in the underground network of tunnels," Klamin said. "Matches their description, at least. Smart kids ––– must've fled down there while this level was on fire."

"So you're down _there_?" Andora asked.

"We're _here,_" Na'thin said patiently.

"Where is that? Can I go to here too?" Sai'wer asked.

"No, don't leave, Sai'wer!" Jahn Pal begged. "They might have croaked! _Did _you croak, Mister Na'thin? Are you alive?"

"No, they're dead," Minir sneered.

"Oh ––– oh boohoo!" Sai'wer wailed.

"Silly GOODS ––– can't you hear us WICKEDLY breathing?" Na'thin asked.

"Come up _here_! Don't stay down in that dark here! Come up!" Jahn Pal yelled.

"Yes, come up, WICKEDS," Aedan said. "We need that antidote."

"Um, we'd love to and all, WICKED, but we're sorta GOODLY stuck," Terry said. "The ceiling kinda fell down and kinda…blocked the WICKED exit."

"Excellent, great, awesome." Adriaan slapped her forehead. "How much worse can it get?"

"As for the antidote…well, me and Terry kinda got WICKEDLY carried away," Na'thin said.

"Tasted real WICKED," Terry piped up. "Too GOOD there wasn't any more."

"What?!" Aedan said. "Selfish GOODS! Idiots! I hope you get sick and croak from drinking too much!"

"Sadly, they won't, Aedan," Adriaan said. "It's made from all-natural ingredients, so they can't overdose themselves. But there is no need for you to be upset ––– you've adapted to the atmosphere already, so you don't need the elixir."

"Oh, in that case, don't croak, WICKEDS," Aedan said.

"No, please DO croak, WICKEDS," Minir said. "It'd put us out of our misery."

"Look, Na'thin, Klamin and I will send a work crew to dig you out," Adriaan said. "I've got to get out to the clone army, and I can't wait for you, so you'll have hold the fort down here. Help out Klamin ––– make sure no one gets hurt or some sort of disease spreads. Oh, and check on Kan. Make sure he's okay."

"But, WICKED, we need to tell you something. A disease _has _begun to spread…"

Suddenly the comm unit went dead.

"Na'thin? Terry? Do you copy?" Adriaan shook the device frantically. "The power cell shorted out!" she glared accusingly at Kien and Minir. "Can't you idiots tell a good power cell from a bad one! Now I'll never find out what they were going to say!"

"Hey, chill, GOOD, why do you want to hear what ol' Na'thin has to say, anyway? You've never listened to us before…"

"He had something important to tell me! That's why I wanted to hear! You should be glad that you have Force connections, otherwise you'd be hard put to find a job! Power cell, hah! More like a dead battery!"

"But it wasn't the battery!" Kien argued. "Those assault ships must've blocked communications!"

She stared blackly at them for several minutes. They shifted uncomfortably, perturbed by her angry silence. Suddenly, she turned on her heel and strode away. "I'll meet you at the nearest city hangar in twenty minutes pronto."

"Will do. First I've gotta contact some Nebula who'll dig those kiddos out of there." Klamin strode off in the opposite direction.

As soon as they were gone, Minir exploded. "'Assault ships blocked communications'!" he screamed. "Ferrocrete head! Ships can only block _interstellar_ communication! Even Jahn Pal and Sai'wer know that!"

"No we don't," the cousins said together. "We're stupid."

"You've got that right," Andora said.

"No, we don't," Jahn Pal said. "We're always wrong."

"So you're saying that you're smart?"

"No."

"Then why did you –––"

"Enough, GOOD. Must move on. Cannot stop and ask GOOD questions. Follow WICKED me." Aedan strode off in the direction that Adriaan had been going.

As they were leaving the building, Andora spotted a plastoid stand that held little fold-out maps of the city. She picked one up and slid it into the folds of her tunic. A real Jedi didn't need a map, but she didn't care ––– if Aedan was doing the leading, she had better bring a chart so that she could get her bearings. One of Aedan's many flaws was that he had no sense of direction.


	17. Kay Lee

** chapter 17**

She stood on top of the platform, facing the setting sun. Sy had set long before; its sister Leeto was soon to follow. Just above the horizon of the city, the dim forms of mountaintops rose, stabbing the pinkish-orange sky with their sharp, black peaks. Gazing upon the highest mountain, Adriaan believed she could see a pinpoint of red blinking upon the top. Was it just a star, she wondered, or was it molten lava shooting into the air?

She felt Klamin behind her. She spoke without turning around. "Na'thin and Terry?"

"They are being rescued." He walked forward a few steps so that he was next to her. Though her eyes were still on the point of red light, she could feel his stare upon her. "What's wrong?"

"That red light on the mountaintop," Adriaan said. "It is not a star."

There was a brief silence. She heard him take in a deep breath. "Commander, what makes you sure that the Seps have laid a trap for your troops in the mountains?" he asked softly.

"Something terrible has been living in the magma there for some time now," Adriaan said. "I meant to tell you before, but the chase gave me no time to put the pieces together."

"You mean you've just figured it out?" Klamin asked incredulously.

"Now is as good as any time for meditation," Adriaan said, smiling grimly. "The medic in charge of the hospital here…he unwittingly told me everything I needed to know about your people and planet."

Klamin's face was pale, which was slightly odd, for the evening was warm. Was he afraid of something? "And what exactly did your awesome, supernatural Jedi powers discover about Zylxx?"

"Of course you have heard of the reports of the volcanoes in the heart of the Zwel-jic Mountain range?"

"Everyone has."

"But not everyone has heard of Actin 3, or that it has already been released, thanks to an anonymous agent of the Seps."

Klamin inhaled sharply. "You're kidding. Joh-ma never even gave us a chance."

"Oh, no, it wasn't Joh-ma who released it," Adriaan said. "He has enough people in the city to do that for him. The medic confessed that he was the one responsible for treating the scientist that, 'discovered' the volcanoes. The scientist picked up a disease from something in the mountains, and could not be cured, so that bantha-brain of a medic released him into the city. That _something _was Actin 3. Joh-ma already knew that ––– he was lying the whole time. And then he sought to lure my clones into the mountains, so that they too would sicken. His plan was to win the battle before it had even started. But he would have never succeeded if it hadn't been for the cooperation of the Nebula Guard…"

"Epi'do," Klamin hissed angrily.

"That is what I suspected. Also, all of those rich officials who fled when the Seps attacked…they were informed by Joh-ma. They were under his thumb, spying, working for him the whole time. They fled from Actin 3, not from the war. Joh-ma rigged the election, knowing that the Queen would be too weak to resist the power of her own bodyguard. And it was Joh-ma's doing that a scientist was recruited to search the mountains in the first place. This was no accident ––– this was all _meant _to happen."

"So what are you going to do?" he asked.

"Nothing for the present," she replied. "For now, the only suggestion I can give you is that you take a party out to retrieve the scientist's body and disinfect it before it spreads the sickness through the city. We've got to stop this before we're overrun."

"So Epi'do is working for the Separatists," Klamin guessed. "No wonder he's always so sallow. Imagine working for _them._"

"Don't be so hasty," she warned. "He may be just a simple captain who is trying to work his way up to the status of an autocrat, or he might be someone else…someone whose motives are deeper than the desire for high status in Zylxxian society. In any case, he is a hindrance, so organize and conduct the investigation secretly. If possible, don't let on to any one of what you are doing. There's no telling how many spies are creeping around in your palace."

"Got it. I'll be monitoring the city database, so I'll be keeping track of you and the Separatist armies. It will take a few hours to round up a capable Nebula regiment ––– but we'll be ready if you call us. Oh, and if you need any help ––– info or ideas ––– just contact me. I'll have anything that you need at my fingertips."

"Okay," Adriaan absentmindedly, twirling a stray golden wisp of hair about her finger. She knew that she should be making plans for the battle, but she had something a little more personal on her mind that she couldn't shake off. She had not stopped thinking about her Padawan ever since he had fainted; the decision on whether she should stay with her foolhardy Apprentice or respond to the more urgent call of commanding her troops, still had to be decided. She had little choice now, with her clones nearly walking right into a rancor's jaws ––– in a manner of speaking –––she no longer felt their position was secure when she was far away from them. But she felt irresponsible, just abandoning Kan like that, going off to possible death without giving her Apprentice any further instructions or advice on what to do if she did not return.

_ If I do not return. There are so many things that can happen if I do not return. Ruru had not returned to Kan; because of it, Kan tuned into the dark side. But I was there to get him out of it, to make him keep going, even when he had lost hope. If I die, no one will be there. He will be all alone ––– unmastered for the second time. He might decide something rash; he might decide that he doesn't need a trainer at all, thinking that he would supposedly free himself from the grief of losing yet another mentor. That would mean that he would give himself over to the dark side. Yet if he withstands the temptation, it might break him, and he would fade into nothingness, into an empty body with a broken spirit. If he is strong enough, he will triumph, and he would become a Jedi greater than anyone could have possibly imagined. But that chance is so little. For in this time, ears tend to be more open to flattery and deceit, than to truth and hope._

_ "Do not judge the universe so harshly, Adriaan. There is still some good left in this galaxy; that alone is worth fighting for."_

_ How can this galaxy possibly be good if people like HIM existed in it?_

_ "Every person that is born is given a choice: to fall into darkness by thinking only of the self ––– to give into pride, malice, greed, ego. Or to become what you were meant to be ––– by standing firm in truth and love. It is your choice to make: it is yours alone. You cannot choose the destinies of others ––– that is why some are evil. That is why you must learn to let Kan go. You can guide him, but it is he who must make the decision himself."_

_ But to leave him, with no words of encouragement, of advice, of hope…_

_ "What are words, Adriaan? What words of comfort do you have for him? Would you say, 'Do not be certain of my return: there is a time for everyone. How do you know that I will return to you? Be ready for whatever comes.'? Ruru had said the same thing; he did not return. How would those words be comforting to Kan? Is it worth the death of your clones to wait and utter a few trifling sentences that ring empty and comfortless in your Apprentice's ears?"_

_ But I don't have to _say_ anything. I don't have to go. I can stay, and so free him from the torment of watching his Master's death a second time. I cannot leave this boy alone._

_ "You need not leave him alone."_

"But whom can I trust?" Adriaan said aloud.

Klamin looked at her gravely. "You may seem alone, but you are not. You can trust me, Commander, with anything that you ask," he said quietly.

She looked at him, and for a moment, a shroud of mist seemed to roll between them. Suddenly she realized that the mist was really the sparkle of unshed tears in her eyes. Tears…was she crying? Adriaan, the tough one, the brave one, the girl who was all guts, the kid who did her duty without flinching at peril or suffering, the woman who preferred a handshake over a hug, was _crying._ Crying! This would never do ––– she was getting too soft.

She forced her mouth open and laughed aloud, but she broke off suddenly at the sound she was making. That laugh sounded so mirthless, so bitter, so _empty. _Had she always laughed like this?

The young Zylxxian looked hurt; he had not seen her tears, nor understood why she had exploded into that insane fit of laughter. Perhaps he thought she was making fun of him.

_I should say sorry._

Again, that word seemed to belong to a foreign language, a language that she could not speak. So instead of attempting to say it, and make a fool out of herself, she decided to change the subject. "Klamin, I –––" she stopped in mid-sentence. What should she say, anyway?

_There is more to him than you know. He is not just a Zylxxian._

"What are you?" Adriaan said aloud.

He smiled a little bit. "Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said. Who are you?" Adriaan asked accusingly.

_"Adriaan, can't you hear yourself? You are just trying to avoid taking responsibility for your actions by accusing an innocent person of deceiving you."_

"I am Klamin J'Oli, chief advisor to Queen Hyrax, and official member of the Nebula Guard…"

"Stop right there ––– I am tired people avoiding my questions. So I ask you again: Who are you?"

"I am what you see before you."

"That's just it!" Adriaan cried. "I see what is before me; I see only what you _want _me to see. However, the Force tells me there's something sneaky behind that facade of a charming court advisor. I don't know what or who you are, but you are not a Zylxxian of the Nebula Guard."

Klamin stood there, staring at her in silence. She gazed fearlessly back at him, refusing to back down. The world around them seemed to dim and grow silent ––– it was only her and Klamin now, looking at each other as through an invisible yet unassailable wall.

"Well, WICKEDS, us WICKEDS are ready to hit the road."

The Zylxxian's eyes turned away from her as Andora and the Wicked Club came running up. They were all covered from head to toe in scrapes, bruises and dirt. Andora looked like she had reached the limit of her patience. Her shoulders sagged a little at the prospect of flying a swoop with one of those wicked demons.

"We are ready to leave, Master," Andora said wearily.

Adriaan turned away from Klamin and gestured toward the swoopbikes parked near them. "Two to a bike, kids. Kien and Minir, split up and take Jahn Pal and Sai'wer on your bikes; Andora, you'll have to share your bike with Aedan. Now, let's get going ––– we have only an hour to get there."

They climbed onto the swoops and gunned the engines. Andora and Aedan immediately began fighting over the controls.

"No, Aedan, _**I **_get to drive because Master said so."

"GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD Andora, just because you were born two minutes before me doesn't mean you get to be the boss…"

"It's not a question of age, it is a question of maturity…"

"No, it's all a matter of who's the WICKEDER pilot…"

Adriaan turned away from the ruckus and climbed onto her swoop. Klamin stood with his back turned, facing the red star that was somehow not a star. Adriaan's mouth tightened ––– this was goodbye, she knew. She may not ever see this Zylxxian again.

"Klamin…"

His back remained rigid, facing the star. "Sometimes things are better left unsaid, Commander."

"I will expect the answer to my question when I return," Adriaan warned.

The stiffness in his shoulders sagged a little bit. "That all depends on the manner of your return," he said, trying to sound indifferent. Yet she knew that he was not.

Adriaan opened her mouth to say more, but just as quickly shut it again. There was no more to be said. The gate had closed between them. Her heart throbbed painfully in her chest ––– she realized that it hurt because she knew that her brief friendship with the Zylxxian had ended. All in the space of a moment.

She powered up the engines and piloted her swoop into a screaming dive down the city walls. She did a few loops, then accelerated as her vehicle bumped over the surface of the planet. She heard the screams and gleeful shouts of her Apprentices as they twisted and dove through the air. Hearing the complaining voice of Andora rising above the tumult of noise, the ache in Adriaan's heart lessened. She smiled, though still sad.

_Funny how I've never missed friendship until I lost a friend. I've lived all my life without anyone as my sidekick ––– how come I am so hurt by the loss of this one boy?_

_ "At least you still have your Padawans."_

_Not all of them._

She looked back, toward the city. She was traveling toward the setting sun, and its last dying rays stretched out like fingers toward the city she was leaving behind her. One beam of light landed on a forlorn figure standing upon the wall, his translucent face blood red as he looked toward the star Leeto.

She shuddered at the sight. It reminded her of an image she had seen long ago, so long ago, that she could not recall where or when she had envisioned it. Sometimes that bloodstained figure came to her in her sleep, in the darkness of the night, when everything seemed to close around her, enveloping her in the shadow.

_I am leaving my Padawan in the care of that person. What if my choice wasn't wise?_

She hoped she never had to find out.

*****

Adriaan felt like the biggest idiot in the universe. She had failed in everything she had set out to do, except for one important detail ––– she had gotten the Nebula Guard into her service, though she couldn't count on their aid to help win the battle. Klamin hadn't sounded too confident in the bodyguard of the Queen, and judging by the physical condition of the Zylxxian infantry, Adriaan had no faith in them, either.

Urak saluted crisply, his expression unreadable behind his inexpressive white helmet. "You came earlier than I had hoped, Commander."

"I was in haste," Adriaan replied. "Any news?"

"I fear that the Commander will not like the reports we received. The Separatist army is greater than even our intelligence units on Coruscant have anticipated."

"How great?" Adriaan asked, feeling her heart sink.

"Twenty-five thousand strong at least, Commander."

"Small enough; I was expecting more from Joh-ma, actually."

Urak was plainly taken aback at her answer. "Commander, we have only 2,304 troops to spare; more than ten droids to a clone trooper ––– that's impossible, considering that their vehicle firepower also exceeds ours."

"But we have something droids don't, sir."

"Don't call me sir, sir."

"Sorry, sir. Unallowable," Adriaan said, forcing back a grin.

Urak was silent for a moment. Adriaan could sense his hesitation as he contemplated his next move. "I believe that the Commander is making another attempt at a joke," he said finally.

Adriaan's face reddened. "Oh, no, sir. It isn't funny if you have to _attempt _to make a good joke. It just comes naturally."

"I never said that your attempt at a joke gave me a cause to feel mirth, sir."

"You are a rotten cynic, Urak," Adriaan said.

"Thank you, sir."

"No, Urak ––– I wasn't complimenting you."

"Oh, then I am sorry for inconveniencing you with my personality flaw, sir. I will try to do better, Commander."

Adriaan slapped her forehead in exasperation. These clones were as uninspired and dispassionate as the planet they hailed from.

"Commander, I believe that our conversation was interrupted right as you were making the stunning observation that the Separatists lack something we have," Urak said presently. "What may that something be, sir?"

"Freedom of mind," Adriaan replied, beginning to pace the floor. "Will power. Efficiency. Intelligence. Those droids don't have any of those qualities. We must use the gifts we have to defeat them. With these tools, we no longer have any need of strength in numbers."

"I…see, Commander."

"Good. Are all the troops ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell them to move out. We attack the city immediately. We must avoid hitting any areas with Zylxxian citizens. Just breach the city's defenses, and we have them."

"Of course, sir." Urak did not sound convinced. Well, neither did Adriaan, but she did not intend to admit it to her clone underling. She needed her troops to remain confident if they wanted to eventually defeat the Seps. Secretly she wished that she had the power for Battle Meditation, in which a Jedi boosted the confidence of her allies, and depleted the optimism of her foes, to help determine the outcome of the battle. But Adriaan knew that Battle Meditation would have little effect on the mindless droids.

Her troops were marching out across the hilly land. The SPHA-T's plodded forward at the head of the army; the AT-TE's stomped along the flanks, their front lights piercing the cool night air. Adriaan looked up, only to see Republic Gunships and swoop bikes flying overhead. The three assault ships were slowly rising up into space as they discharged the last of their cargo. Everything was set; the pieces on the game board were moving.

There was an odd speck floating near the ascending cruisers. Adriaan squinted; it didn't look like a wisp of cloud drifting across the sky, blocking out the stars. No ––– the shape was too clear-cut, too symmetrical, to be just vapor. As it loomed closer, she thought she could dimly make out its diamond-like silhouette. The five moons of Zylxx cast a bright light across the shadow, bouncing off the outline of the object as if the rays were being reflected from a metal surface…

That shape could only be one thing ––– a starfighter. And not just any starfighter; the characteristic diamond shape belonged to the Delta-7 Jedi starfighter. But what was a Jedi doing so far out, in Adriaan's sector? At first she thought the ship was Klamin's ––– but that didn't make sense, for it wasn't approaching from the city. No ––– it had to be an unknown Jedi Knight that had strayed into her sector by accident, purposely entered her territory to ask for her aid, or had been summoned here by the Council to help her. She hoped that the last answer was the least likely.

A clone marched up. "Commander ell Talaan, unidentified craft spotted flying over our sector. Readings have shown it to be a Delta-7, though the pilot has not responded to the command to identify himself. Commander Urak requesting permission to shoot down suspect craft."

"Permission denied!" Adriaan said.

"Reason, sir?"

"That's a Jedi pilot flying that ship, or I'm a gravity-defying bantha."

"But, sir, you're not a gravity-defying ban –––"

"Ah, so you finally agree that it _is _a Jedi flying that craft. Good. Now that we both understand each other, you will follow through with my commands and just allow the starfighter to land."

"But, sir, the pilot has refused to identify himself –––"

"So? Her comm system might be malfunctioning; happens all the time, you know."

"Might I inquire, sir, what makes you think the target is a girl?"

"'Target'? Didn't I make it clear that I do _not _want her shot down? Give that craft permission to land, now!"

"Sir, if her comm unit is malfunctioning, what's the use of contacting her if she can't hear us?"

Adriaan sighed. "Just ignore the craft and allow it to land. Report the passengers to me upon landing."

"Very good, Commander."

Fifteen minutes later, the same clone appeared before Adriaan, escorting a humanoid pilot.

"According to Commander ell Talaan's wish, we have allowed the pilot to land and disembark. The passenger has still refused to identify herself –––"

"Then she shows tactfulness by not giving away her identity to a full-grown idiot," Adriaan said impatiently. "You are dismissed. Report back to your legion commander immediately."

After the clone had hastily retreated back to his station, Adriaan turned to get a closer look at the pilot.

It was a human female; by the size and build, around the age of sixteen or seventeen, though Adriaan could not be sure because of the battle helmet obscuring the girl's face. She was wearing a navy blue pilot suit with matching gloves and calf-length boots. All Adriaan could see of the head was two braids of golden-blond hair flung over her strong shoulders, and eyes that glowed apprehensively from behind the dark visor.

"You are in the presence of a Jedi Knight, young Padawan," Adriaan said sternly. "Remove your helmet and identify yourself."

There was a stifled exclamation of surprise from inside the helmet. "How do you know that I am a Jedi?"

"Not a Jedi," Adriaan corrected. "Too young, but you have a strong Force connection that clearly shows you to be a Padawan learner. Who are you?"

The person slowly removed her helmet, revealing a teenage girl about a head shorter than Adriaan. Her dark eyes snapped angrily at Adriaan as she shook wisps of sweaty strawberry-blond hair from her face. "Than if _**I **_am too young to be a Jedi, what makes _you _so much older and wiser than me? By all appearances, I'd say that you were about my age. Where is _your _Master, fellow Apprentice?"

Adriaan felt as if she had been slapped. The girl had unknowingly touched a painful memory in her. "My Master has been dead since last year," Adriaan said with an effort.

The muscles in the Padawan's face relaxed. "Oh…I'm sorry to hear that."

Now Adriaan felt angry. "Why are you sorry?" she asked, her voice rising. "It's not like he cared about me; he held me back! He hated me! He tried to kill me! I hate him!" she stopped, out of breath, and shocked at her display of emotion. It wasn't like her to let down her guard. "Um, I fear we are off the subject," she said finally. "Sorry about my outburst ––– ah, I don't know what came over me –––"

"It's okay. I think I know how you understand." The girl's face was composed, as if she had not witnessed Adriaan's near-tantrum. "I don't know why I thought you were an Apprentice at all ––– you don't have this," she said, tossing her Padawan braid over her shoulder. She stuck out her hand. "My name is Kay Lee, Apprentice to…Apprentice of…I mean…" she stammered and came to a stop.

Suddenly a boy popped up from behind Kay's back. "She means that she's the former Apprentice of Master Nadma Okiwa but Nadma died in a Hai revolt just outside this system and so did my Master-to-be named Ku-ku N'ut or something like that and so Kay Lee threw a big tantrum and almost took off without me but I'm sneaky and sneaked aboard her ship and that kinda made her mad so she stuffed me into some compartment in her lame old Jedi starfighter and I got mad at her so I broke her comm system and then she got madder and threatened to throw me overboard but I'm too smart for her and so we landed here and here we are."

"Whoa." Adriaan looked at Kay. "Does he always talk like this?"

But Kay Lee's head was bent, her eyes staring down at the toes of her scuffed boots.

"Yes," the boy said brightly. "I also have a funny laugh. Wanna hear it?" Without waiting for her answer, he let out an unearthly chortle. "!"

"Um, nice." Adriaan's attention was focused on Kay Lee. Even though her talkative companion spoke a little too fast for Adriaan to comprehend, she was able to pick up that they were one of the "orphaned" Apprentices, who were becoming much too common in these days of war. "Kay Lee, I'm sorry to hear of Master Okiwa's death; she was an honorable Jedi, as she had shown in the few missions I had accompanied her on."

"You do not need to tell me that the dead are honorable ––– I learned my lessons well at the Temple," Kay Lee said bitterly.

"Kay Lee –––" Adriaan felt suddenly very awkward in her predicament. "You know that as a Jedi, it is our duty to heal and to spread peace and justice. But sometimes people get in our way, people who are too strong for us to defeat ––– so we must learn to accept death as a part of our lives too."

Kay Lee turned away, showing her disgust.

_I am absolutely revolting to her, _Adriaan thought, _I can't blame her, either ––– I am only telling her the things that she already knows. But how else can I comfort her?_

_ "Remember your Apprentice, Adriaan."_

_ My Apprentice?_

_ "Don't you remember Kan, that day? The look on his face, his reaction? He acted as a human naturally would; like this girl is acting. Yet you comforted him. Remember how you did it."_

_ By talking about myself. About my experiences, even though they were painful to speak of. At least I did not have to speak of HIM. Kan knows nothing about HIM._

_ "A Jedi's duty is to sacrafice his comfort for the sake of others. And do not assume that Kan will be satisfied with knowing nothing of your Master. He will ask you about HIM someday, and what will you tell him?"_

"Nothing," Adriaan said.

"…By the way my name is Andre and Ku-ku N'ut said that I was a wicked boy and I believe him and Kay Lee believes that too. She is really mean all she did at Hai was boss me around. Just because she is older doesn't mean that she can boss me around…"

"Shut up," Kay Lee said.

"No, don't shut up, WICKED," said a familiar voice. Adriaan groaned. That Aedan had a tendency to pop up at inopportune moments. "Did I hear you say that you are a _WICKED_ boy?"

Andre crossed his eyes and ran his fingers through his dark hair so that it stuck out all over the place. He opened his mouth wide and let out his unnerving laugh. "Yes, I am very wicked, you little, fat, wicked boy."

Adriaan would have expected Aedan to slap Andre in the face for his impudence, but to her surprise, his temper remained cool. "If you are WICKED, why do you say wicked like this: 'wicked' as if it had no meaning, no power of its own? If you are WICKED, add emphasis to the word **WICKED**, because to say **WICKED **is totally W-W-W-W-W-W-W-I-I-I-I-I-I-C-C-C-C-C-C-K-K-K-K-K-K-E-E-E-E-E-E-D-D-D-D-D-D!!!!!!"

Understanding lit Andre's face. "You mean like this? WICKED?"

"No, no, don't make it sound like a GOOD question," Aedan explained.

"GOOD?" Andre asked.

"GOODS are UNWICKEDS," Aedan explained.

"Cool."

"You mean 'WICKED!'"

"Oh, yeah. WICKED!"

"You've got it!" Aedan screamed. "A WICKED initiate to the WICKED Club! Come! You must meet the rest of my evilly WICKED minions. Perhaps we can find a WICKED position for you, hmm?"

"I'm goo-WICKED at laughing weirdly and making WICKED jokes," Andre suggested.

"Sorry, we already have a WICKED comedian," Aedan said apologetically. "You can be the chief cleaner of my womp rat cages, though."

Andre looked like he did not relish the thought of being the official cleaner-upper of animal cages. "Nah, I'll be the WICKED destructo-machine!"

"Hey, WICKED!" Aedan screamed. "You are most abundant in WICKEDNESS, oh great WICKED one. Our WICKEDEST priority is to spread WICKEDNESS throughout this GOOD galaxy. We have a UN-strict code of WICKEDNESS that all WICKED members must follow –––"

"That's great, just wicked," Adriaan interrupted. "Poisoning the minds of innocent children –––"

Andre bristled. "I'm not innocent, GOOD!"

Adriaan sighed. "Poisoning the minds of UN-innocent children, Aedan, is not a desirable hobby. If your going to make a big ceremony out of bringing in Andre as a Wicked Club member, keep it out of my sight and smell and hearing. Understand?"

"Yes." Aedan backed away, holding his new cohort tightly by the arm.

"Yes?"

"Yes, my GOOD UN-Master."

After they had gone, Adriaan turned back toward Kay Lee. She took a deep breath and sat down gingerly next to her. "Kay Lee, have you ever heard of the name Adriaan ell Talaan?"

"I have heard many legends of the Jedi Padawan called ell Talaan, yes," Kay Lee said. "Though how much I can believe of from the stories, I do not know."

"All of it is true," Adriaan said. "For I knew her ––– I was there; I am Adriaan ell Talaan."

"You are Adriaan ell Talaan? That is amazing! You were only a myth to the younglings back at the Temple! Did Haak Zélé truly marked you with the tattoo of the sith lords of old?" Kay Lee asked incredulously.

Adriaan smiled sadly as she held up her right wrist. She drew back her tunic sleeve, exposing a long, black design that curled around her hand and spiraled up to her elbow. "This is the mark that was devised for my torment in the hands of the sith cultists," she said in a low voice.

Kay Lee's eyes were wide. "The stories also say that you lost everything…that you nearly died, along with your Master."

"That, sadly, is also true," Adriaan said. "I was beyond the age of being re-chosen by another Master, so Knighthood was forced upon me when I was only fifteen years old._"_

Kay was silent, her head averted, as if contemplating Adriaan's words.

"My Apprentice, who is absent because he was experiencing problems with the thin atmosphere, lost his Master in the battle on Geonosis," Adriaan continued. "What is worse, he was there ––– he watched his Master, who was more like a father to him, die. You are not alone in your loneliness, Kay Lee."

"That is an odd thing to say," Kay Lee said.

"That is because I am an odd person."

"But what do you mean?" Kay asked.

"Simply this; though everyone you love seems to abandon you, there is always hope. You must trust that, Kay Lee. I once refused to hope ––– it nearly killed me. You must trust in the Force ––– it will not let you down."

"How can I trust in anything when my future is so uncertain?" Kay said. "I am sixteen ––– too old to be chosen again. I am one of the 'orphaned' I can't possibly be as talented as you are, so how can the Council make an exception of me?"

"It is not a matter of talent that makes you a Jedi," Adriaan said sharply. "It is all a matter of if you are _ready_."

"Oh, everyone knows that." Kay Lee waved her hand dismissively. "You were Knighted because your experiences prepared you ––– you were mature enough at fifteen to be a Jedi."

"You assume too much," Adriaan said. "I wasn't mature enough; I'm still not mature enough."

"What I'm trying to point out is that my future is clouded; I do not know what I will do, who I will be," Kay Lee said.

"Do not concern yourself overmuch with the future, Kay," Adriaan said. "You should be mindful of it; but you should not let the uncertainty of it cloud the decisions of the present moment. Now is not the time to dwell on what has happened or what is to come ––– I and my troops are going to battle. There will be a time to grieve for Nadma Okiwa, but it is not now."

"What must I do, then?" Kay Lee asked, a renewed sense of purpose sparking in her eyes.

"I think it was more than just mere chance or luck that brought you here, to me," Adriaan said. "Even though I have only met you five minutes ago, I sense that you are wise for your years. I could use your help ––– I need another brain here ––– these clones are great and all, but they just aren't, well…"

"…They don't act human." Kay Lee smiled. "I had to deal with them at Hai, so I know what you mean. I wish they _could _act human; I think they are capable of it, but they just don't know how."

"Yeah, I know," Adriaan said, relieved to find someone who understood her dilemma. "Anyway, since you have no occupation for the present, would you like to –––"

"Stick around with you for a while?" Kay Lee finished. "Sure ––– it's not like I have anywhere to go to. I don't have anyone…anymore…" Her voice faltered and came to a stop.

"Hey, what did I tell you?" Adriaan said. "Stop fretting ––– I'll take care of you like you were one of my own Padawans."

"You mean Padawan…singular."

Adriaan grinned. "No ––– _Padawans._ I have about eight Younglings that are too powerful to really be Younglings anymore under my care. The Council is thinking of letting Jedi take on Padawan clans, instead of training one Apprentice at a time."

"Oh, because of the decreasing number of Jedi Masters –––"

"Let's not stick to that subject. It's a messy business. But anyway, you can act as my temporary Apprentice ––– or even better ––– assistant Jedi trainer. It seems like Andre will be sticking around with my Apprentices anyway –––_ birds that are WICKED stay together, _as Aedan likes to tell me."

"How do you deal with them?" Kay Lee asked. "They seem, well, you know…"

"Immaturely Wicked?" Adriaan said. "I understand your confusion ––– they don't seem to be the advanced youngling type. But then, I'm no Council member."

Just then a clone came running up. "Commander ell Talaan, droid troops are seen marching out from the city."

"That was quick." Adriaan jumped up to her feet. "Well, prepare for attack."

"You mean your just going to attack that army face-on?" Kay Lee asked incredulously. "That's crazy; you're all going to get killed!"

"I don't see any other options," Adriaan said wearily. "They already know we're coming ––– and a spy sent information of all our previous plans to the army. They've already begun to march out ––– we're being forced to attack."

"But even if you get past the army, you'll still have to breach the gates and face all the droids stored inside the city."

"So?" Adriaan shrugged. "That won't be much of a challenge; it'll be a tough to break through the outer defenses, but once we're inside, the droids won't present a problem."

"That's where you're wrong." Kay Lee fished out a datapad from her tunic pocket and accessed a file that showed an aerial view of the city. "You may have seen maps of the city, but as the Jedi say, a map is not your destination. I flew over that city on my way over here."

"And?"

"The city walls seem thick, it is true, and well-guarded by turrets, but what you may not know is that the city has access to its water by a river that runs parallel to the outer defenses." She jabbed a laserpointer at a spot on the map. "The river runs along the wall that faces the Zwel-jic Mountains. There is a hole in that wall ––– a drain for the water, which is pumped through the pipes that run through the city."

"What does a drain have to do with fighting droids?" Adriaan asked.

"You were informed that approximately twenty-five thousand droids occupy that area ––– however, I discovered using the surveillance scopes on my ship that a large shipment of droids is being stored in the city. These droids, upon activation, are a force of about another fifteen thousand strong."

Adriaan's mouth fell open. This new information was totally unexpected. "We have to do something to get rid of those droids at once!" she said finally.

"My squad will plant charges to blow up the droids, sir," the clone offered.

"No ––– that could kill the prisoners held in the city," Kay Lee said. "I have a better plan."

"What is it?" Adriaan asked.

Kay Lee smiled for the first time. "I'll need Master ell Talaan's help."


	18. Nightmares, Knives, and the First Wave

**chapter 18**

_I am Adriaan. My name means dark. Darkness before the storm._

_ My name is ell Talaan. My name means light; lightning in the storm._

_ These two names show my two sides ––– the darkness and the light._

_ The blackness was not empty. A cloaked figure stood in the center of the darkness, sucking in all light into its monstrous shape. He was very close, looking down at her in such as way that it suddenly made her heart stop and her blood freeze and her skin shrivel as the cold reality hit her that that THING was real._

_ "Do you know who I am, Lightning in the storm?" the voice was soft, like a whisper of air on her skin. She shuddered at its touch and began to sink back into the dark abyss of forgetfulness._

_ "I will not become one of you," she said with an effort, yet she knew that her mouth had not moved._

_ The dark lord laughed, and seemed to loom larger and darker, until his very shape obscured everything else in her vision so that it seemed as though nothing separated her from HIM._

Darc. Come back. You left me all alone to face _HIM…_

_Suddenly the darkness rolled back, and she gazed into a night cluttered with stars. She drew in her breath ––– it was as if someone had drawn back a curtain to let light in. Then the stars faded, and the blackness seemed to evanesce and grow bright. The sun rose; it was morning. Standing there, as if answering her call, was Darc. Had he chased away the darkness?_

_ His back was to her, yet she knew that it was he by his dark, strong profile against the red dawn. His shoulders were slumped, as if wearied by a long battle. He seemed to be searching for something on the horizon. Who was he looking for?_

_ She was perplexed ––– she'd seen this scene before, but she couldn't remember where, or when. But just as she was starting to remember, the vision shimmered and dimmed, then brightened again ––– Yoda and Mace Windu were talking a walk in the sunlit halls of the Temple. She tried to call out to Yoda, but to her surprise, his greenish skin reddened, and soldiers masked in white rampaged through the hallways of the Temple, setting it in flames. An Apprentice lay sprawled on the floor ––– she squinted, but could not recognize the face._

_ "My Padawan."_

_ She was spun around, slowly, against her will, to face the speaker. She was forced to face the Council chambers, now one huge mass of flames. A man enshrouded with darkness stood in the heart of the fire. Why wasn't he burning?_

_ "My Padawan," the cloaked man said._

_ "YOU." The words felt dull, uncharacterized by the hatred that she wanted to put into them. It was hard to speak. _

_ "Ra'hal."_

_ "You killed them. You killed them all, just so that I could get rid of attachment. I am not your Apprentice; I never was."_

_ He laughed. "But I did not kill them. YOU did."_

_ A tear rolled down her nose. "No."_

_ "Look."_

_ Naa-ja and Jan rose up from out of the flames. She called to them, but they only glanced at her and looked away, as if unwilling to acknowledge that they even knew her. She screamed and stumbled closer to the fire, but they had disappeared. _

_ One by one, as if answering her calls, came those she had known and loved: Tinar, Pakla, Eris Akura, Vati…she spoke their names aloud, only to be stared down by the cold, hard glance that is given to a stranger._

_ "See, my little Padawan, you were unwanted; unloved," He said to her. "You betrayed them to their deaths, and now look at what they think of you." _

_ One by one, they faded and melted back into the flames. She stood alone, tears silently running down her face. They had all forsaken her; they were all dead. Naa-ja, Jan, Eris, Pakla, Tinar, Darc…_

_ "You've forgotten about me again, haven't you, Ra'hal?"_

_ Darc was standing beside her, leaning against an invisible wall in a casual, bored sort of way._

_ "You…came…back." Her voice sounded thick with sleep._

_ He laughed, but it did not sound pleasant, like as a friend would laugh at another friend. "Back? I was always here. But I had forgotten how ignorant and blind you are. You didn't even see this coming." He waved his hand expansively over the burning Temple. "You were too weak to save them, and now they are all dead; all burned. All corpses."_

_ This was not Darc. Darc had never spoken so cruelly to her before. "Where is Darc?" she asked._

_ "I am Darc. You made me this way ––– you created all of this; you let this happen, remember?"_

_ "No ––– the Temple will always stand. You are just some vision a sith conjured up out of the dark. The real Darc left ––– he never said goodbye."_

_ "Why would I waste my time to say goodbye to a weak little Jedi bratling who got me expelled, and then used me as a step-stool to elevate herself to the undeserved rank of a Jedi Knight?"_

_ "But I didn't get you expelled! I was in serious condition at the medical center at the time! It was Anakin…"_

_ "Must you always lay the blame upon the shoulders of another, little Padawan? I am wearied with lowering myself to speak to you. It was NOT Anakin; it was YOU. You. It is too late to save the Jedi…because YOU did all of this."_

No. No.

_He grinned maliciously. "You even killed the boy that you befriended…"_

_ Klamin strode forward, blood dripping down from his forehead. She shuddered with horror; it was the same figure she'd left behind as she had taken the swoop bike out to the encampment._

_ "You killed me, Ra'hal. And now your lust for power has destroyed the Temple," Klamin said._

_ "No."_

_ His hands reached out and grabbed her. Darc laughed insanely and dissipated. Adriaan yelled in pain as she was hurled into the midst of the flames._

_ "Klamin!" she screamed._

_ But Klamin's face had been brutally contorted; he was no longer Klamin. He had turned into HIM._

_ "Can't you ever see what's in front of your face?" _

_ She was burning; her body was on fire. She had lost the ability to speak and to see. Yet her senses of hearing and touch seemed to magnify and grow stronger ––– she heard the snap and crack of the flames about her ear, and she winced as a tongue of fire licked her back._

_ But then she remembered that it was not fire._

_ HE raised the whip again, panting a little from the exertion. How long had he been beating her? She couldn't tell; everything was just a red, hazy blur._

_ "All of this has happened because you have FAILED," the voices of Darc, Klamin, and the man with the whip chanted mercilessly. She had lost all feeling now; she had lost all senses except hearing, which had become painfully acute. The shrieks of dying Jedi filled her ears and sucked her down into darkness. She was falling to piece. The only possession she had, the egg-shaped Force-stone that she had carried, played with, and handled since birth, slipped out of her hand and tumbled upon the tiled floor. Their was a blinding flash of light as it shattered into a thousand golden fragments like countless falling stars…_

Adriaan yelled and leaped out of bed, whipping out her dagger. Kay Lee groaned and rolled over in her sleep; Andora whimpered and pulled the blanket closer around her. It was still night at the clone trooper's encampment.

Adriaan sighed and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. That dream again. This was the third time she'd dreamt it, but it was the first time she had realized that it was the Jedi Temple burning. It was also the first time Klamin had been in it. The dream kept on getting worse, no matter what meditation exercises she practiced before going to bed.

She didn't feel like sleeping anymore, so she carefully swung her legs over the side of the bed and ran her hands along the floor, trying to find her robe. Her hands soon enountered the comforting, coarse brown cloth, and she stood up and silently flung the robe about her shoulders. Stepping lightly around the sleeping forms of the Apprentices, she padded barefoot out into the night air, the wind swirling the ends of her robe about her bare ankles.

It was only a few hours till dawn; only a few hours before they would put Kay Lee's daring plan into action. Adriaan was actually looking forward to it ––– she liked to tumble headlong into extreme danger. She did it all the time ––– though mostly it was unintentional.

The night was cold, so she drew her cloak closer about her, looking up at the stars.

_I don't have a dagger._

The fact nearly made her scream aloud at her foolishness. She didn't have a dagger, yet when she had woken up, she had that particular weapon in her hand, poised as if anticipating a coming attack. Where did she get it? Or even more important, to whom did it belong?

She looked down at the gruesome weapon in her hand, turning it slowly over and over. It was a silver blade, of rare material, and it flashed and gleamed in the light of one of the seven moons. The handle itself was a dull black, with a red snakelike design curving down the hilt. An orange and red eight-pointed star shone near the center of the hilt. Adriaan frowned; she'd seen that design before.

And then she realized where she had seen it. That design was a favorite of a person she had thought long dead. It was the device of a sith cultist called Haak. Adriaan had supposedly killed him, on her last mission with her Master, so what was his dagger doing so far out here, on this little-known planet in a little-known system?

There was only one answer: Haak was alive, and he was on this planet. But that still didn't explain where Adriaan had gotten the dagger.

Then she remembered. The fight with Joh-ma in the hallway. Klamin had used a dagger, but he had dropped it, and had resorted to using a blaster. She had picked it up, meaning to return it to him later, but he hadn't missed it, and she had forgotten. And now she was glad that she had forgotten, for now she knew who Klamin was really working for. No doubt he was in league with the Separatists.

And she had left three of her Apprentices in his care.

_Don't assume anything, Adriaan. _Master Yoda had said to her countless times, _Clear, your mind must be, if you wish to know who your true adversaries are._

"But all the evidence points to him," Adriaan argued aloud. "He is capable of doing all this."

_You are only seeing what is on the outside. Have you even bothered to consider looking into his heart? Do you honestly think that in his heart, he is a cruel, greedy being that would do anything to satiate his lust for power?_

She remembered his face; his honest, friendly expression. Was it only a mask to hide his true intentions? Adriaan doubted it. Klamin was young ––– according to Joh-ma, he was approximately fifteen years old. She was fifteen one year ago; she knew what fifteen year olds could do, and how their minds worked. A fifteen year old with Klamin's personality would not have the hardness of heart to do what she was assuming. Even she, who had seen many cruel things inflicted during her childhood, had still had enough strength of will to do the right thing over the evil.

_So now you are assuming that he is good. Haven't you learned anything, Adriaan? You cannot judge with your head in this matter; everything is so uncertain. But you have the Force ––– it will help you, if you will ask it._

She stood very still for a moment, forcing her tense muscles to relax and take in the cold air as she gazed up at the night sky. The double helix Nebula from which Sy and Leeto had been born shone with a cloudy light in the black sky. It's bluish core looked eerily like a lidless, watchful eye ringed with red; the Zylxxians referred to Syleeto's Nebula as the Eye of Heaven. She stared unblinkingly at the eye, reaching out to the Force that surrounded that celestial cloud.

After several minutes, she let out a long breath and looked down. "I sense that there is much good in him," she said finally. Suddenly she felt free, as if she had put down a tiring load. She had never felt so confident in her judgement since she had first been Chosen.

_And it turned out I was overconfident then._

The sky was blushing pink, and the night was beginning to fade as the suns began to rise. As the first red ray peeked out, Adriaan squinted at the horizon; there was something large and black moving quickly across the plain.

It was coming from Zylxx's capital.

Her comlink signaled, shattering the silence around her. Annoyed, she yanked it out of her belt and flicked it on. "What?"

"…Paratists moving out…recon picked up signal…" She could tell Klamin was trying to shout above the static. "Prepare for…too late…"

Then she knew what the black shape was. The Separatist army was on the move. And here was her own little army, standing unprotected upon the naked plain. "Klamin, can you tell me how many are marching out?" Adriaan asked. "Klamin? Do you copy?"

There was nothing on the other end, not even static. Her comlink was dead.


	19. Wakeup in a Dead City

✶ **Time Period: + about two weeks after their arrival on Zylxx✶ **

**chapter 19**

Kan sat up and stretched his legs. He had had a long rest. He didn't even know how long he had been asleep. His forehead crinkled; the last thing he had remembered before drifting off was of Klamin picking him up from the floor and Adriaan calling out to him as if through a fog…the rest was just an ugly nightmare of emptiness and death. But where was everyone now?

The building was too quiet. Too eerily silent. Kan kicked off the bed sheet and stood up, grabbing onto the edge of the bed for support. He was barefoot, and clothed in a white medic gown, but that was fine because the morning was unusually warm. Kan's bare feet slapped noiselessly on the smooth, cool tiles as he walked around the room. The place was obviously a medical center, judging by the heart monitor and instrument tray standing beside his bed. But if it was an emergency room, where were the medics?

"Hello?" Kan called, but all he heard was his own lonely voice echoing off the smooth white walls. Everything was so forlorn. It was as if he had woken up in a ghost city.

_Don't be crazy, _he told himself sternly. _Someone has been taking care of you ––– that someone has to be around here. _

"Maybe that someone left already," Kan said aloud.

_That's illogical. Why would someone who had bothered to care for you for this long would just all of a sudden leave you here all alone?_

"Well, that's my only explanation for the silence," Kan said to himself irritably. "Since you don't agree with me, what is _your _explanation?"

_It is foolish to explain something that you do not understand. Where the mind fails, the body can sometimes be of use._

"I am hungry," Kan said suddenly.

Just then he noticed that a platter of food had been placed beside his bed. Astonished, Kan ran back to his sleep couch and sniffed at the plate apprehensively. The delicate aroma of hot A'Jula fruit muffins, Chaiong-chi tea, and a bowl of scalding vegetable broth rose to his nostrils, making his mouth quiver hungrily. When was the last time he had eaten? Two days? A month? A year? He didn't know, and no one was there to tell him, either. It was just him and that tempting platter of hot soup, fresh muffins, and tea. How did the food get here, if there was no one else existing besides Kan?

For the moment, Kan was not particularly concerned about who had brought the food. All he knew was that he was going to eat the whole platter, regardless of who it belonged to. So he picked up the closest muffin and began to shovel food into his mouth as fast as his hands could lift the fragments to his mouth. The thought passed him that perhaps the food was poisoned, but he felt so starved that he decided to take the risk. Besides, why would someone want to poison perfectly good food?

It wasn't long before all the edibles were consumed. Kan scraped the bowl clean with his spoon, resisting the urge to lick the platter. Tilting the plate, he scooped up the last A'Jula muffin crumbs into his hand and ate them. His hunger had been curbed, but Kan was still unsatisfied. He looked around, as if expecting servants to appear out of nowhere and present him with more food. But none came; the palace remained as silent as ever.

"All right, I'm ready for some answers, whoever has been so kindly taking care of me," Kan called out. "First, I'd like to thank you for this delicious food. Is there any more? Not to complain or anything, but I haven't eaten since…well, I don't know when. Would you be so kind as to tell me the date, please? And where everyone else is? I'm lonely here. Did Adriaan desert me?"

All he heard in answer was the thick, heavy silence that seemed to hang in the air. Kan sighed, running his fingers through his unkempt hair. He needed a haircut; his usually cropped, dark hair had grown into long, curly locks over his ears. He needed a comb ––– laying in that bed for so long had tangled his mass of hair into a womp rat's nest.

"Hey, ol' buddy?" Kan yelled desperately at his unseen helper. "Would it be too much trouble to lend me a comb or something? And vibro-scissors? And one more thing ––– can I get my tunic and leggings back? Sorry if I seem ungrateful, but, I've slept in this medic gown for…well, I guess you know how long. Come on, can't you at least be civil enough to answer me, if you don't have enough manners to show yourself? Why all the secrecy? Why be all sneaky? I command you to come out immediately!"

His small voice seemed to bounce off the walls and echo eerily across the space. "Why? Why? Why? Immediately!" the words shouted in his ears.

"Oh, shut up!" Kan said, exasperated.

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up," the echoes repeated.

Frustrated and angry, he stormed out of the chamber and out into the sunlit hall. The corridor seemed warmer, almost stifling, and he was glad for his cool, airy hospital gown. Even the air seemed oppressive in here ––– it was nearly impossible to breath. And over it all, there was a strange, sickly smell that seeped down his throat and took the breath from his body. Something wasn't right here ––– it stank too much of sickness and death.

Suddenly he felt that there was something watching him. He whirled around, half-expecting an army of battle droids ready to shoot him down. But the hallway was empty. Kan frowned, his hand instinctively reaching for the left side of his utility belt. Then he groaned; he had forgotten that his lightsaber, along with his utility belt and tunic, had been taken. And now here he was, trapped in a palace with sneaky, invisible people, and no weapon to protect him. He was beginning to feel very vulnerable out in the open space of the hallway. He started to retrace his steps back to the medical center.

Then an object caught his eye. It was a black statue carved out of a dark rock, and it was in the shape of a humanoid being, perhaps the same age as Kan. He walked up to it, moving around it so that he could observe it more closely. There was something odd about this statue. It didn't seem to fit, somehow ––– he didn't remember passing it on his way through the hall. And he would have certainly noticed such an interesting piece of art if he had passed it before. Where did it come from?

His fingers brushed against the rough ebony surface. He quickly jerked his hand back in surprise; the stone was hot, as if it was a chunk of cooling molten lava. It was in a shaded corner of the hallway, so it wasn't warmed by light. No ––– it was generating the heat on its own. But that was impossible; only semi-hardened lava could be as hot as that. How did a chunk of lava rock get here?

Kan was getting increasingly alarmed. The mysterious appearance of the food, the evidence that he had been cared for, the strange silence of the city, and now this chunk of lava rock that looked oddly human was getting to be too much for his drowsy senses. He almost felt that he was in the middle of a nightmare. Startled, he backed away and looked around desperately, as if expecting invisible foes to materialize around him.

"Help!" he screamed. "Is there anyone here that will speak to me?"

"I will speak to you; that is, as long as you are able to carry on an intelligent conversation."

Kan looked around, searching for the unseen speaker. "Who are you? Can you help me?"

"That depends upon the nature of your dilemma," the voice replied calmly. "As for _who _I am, do you wish to know of what nature am I, or more specifically what I am called by?"

"Both," Kan answered quickly.

"Well, since you seem to be one of those inquisitive human adolescents that I have been told are always nuisances, and are forever asking foolish questions, I suppose I will get no peace unless I tell you the 5 W's."

"Huh?" Kan stammered. "Oh, I get it ––– Who, what, where, when, and why?"

"Of course."

"Okay, then," Kan said. "Spill it."

"Well, as for _who _I am," the person said. "I am Heatrian Katri'andar Obsidi J'Oli, my original name being Heatrian Katri-andar Obsidi, until Klamin took me under his ––– shall we say _loving _care_? ––– _when I was about four years of age. As for _what,_ I am a male adolescent Pyronite, native to the Zwel-jic Mountains, and my current status at the palace is as a –––"

"Pie Ro Knight?" Kan asked. "Is that a rank in the Nebula Guard?"

The voice snorted. "Obviously you are not as intelligent as the size of your cranium would suggest. Have you ever heard of the legendary beings composed of the nonliving substance called magma?"

Kan's hand had instinctively touched his head at the scathing remark about his cranium size. His extra-large brain was starting to ache as his brain struggled to process the information. "Sorry, but I am not a native to this planet, and so have never been told of these…Pie Knights, or whatever you say that you are."

"_Pyronites,_" the voice corrected.

"What do you look like?" Kan asked.

"Like a rock," it retorted. "What else? Can't you see me in front of your face? You just touched me a second ago."

"I did?" Kan mumbled, stupefied.

There was an audible grumble, then a distinctive _crack, _as if a rock had been split. Kan turned half fearfully toward the stone statue. No, it couldn't be…

The black stone seemed to melt and collapse in on itself. The dull luster of the stone blushed red, and two orange eyes seemed to open at the top of the "head" Suddenly the magma shape straightened, and now Kan could see that it still held the form of an adolescent humanoid.

"Duh, you touched me," the lava creature said. "Your hand is scorched; I can smell your burned skin from here. Do you have a sight impediment? What is wrong with you?"

"Blazers!" Kan ejaculated.

"No, I'm a _Pyronite, _not a blazer," the magma said. "How many times do I have to tell you that before you get it into your thick head? Stop staring at me as if I'm a walking pile of molten lava ––– I'm as much alive as you are, or more so, judging at the paleness of your complexion. You have been asleep long; too long, in fact. Surely someone with your Jedi capabilities would have recovered much more quickly. But anyhow, I hope the food was to your liking; Klamin said to bring you man-food, so that is what I did. I do not see the point in eating organic foods ––– I have survived all my life without taking nourishment of that type, and I am stronger and more enduring than most other beings."

"You mean you don't _eat_? Then how can you possibly be a living being?"

"Well, of course we _eat_," Heatrian said. "We just do not eat food of the same _type._ We receive energy from sunlight, and from mineral-rich stone ––– Pyronites do not need man-food to live."

"Oh, I see." Kan was beginning to feel very insignificant compared to Heatrian's race. "Well, now that we have that settled, would you mind telling me what the time is? Speaking of food, I am hungry. Do Pyronites have mealtimes?"

"_Hungry_? I thought I had given you enough," Heatrian said. "Oh, well, Klamin was right when he said I have much to learn about humans. As for _when _you are, it is approximately two weeks since you have arrived to our system; today is the fifth day of the fourth month according to the orbit of satellite Khari. It is the fourth hour after dawn; you have just had your Zylxxian brunch ––– we of Zylxx usually have our breakfast as soon as the sun rises, and do not have a meal again until around the ninth hour."

"Blasts," Kan said. "So I have to wait five hours before I can have more food? Can't I have a midmorning snack?"

"No," Heatrian said firmly. "Zylxxians and Pyronites alike do not believe in snacks. There are three formal mealtimes; that should be adequate."

"But I haven't eaten real food in two whole weeks," Kan complained. "Who's in charge here? Can't you ask him to make an exception?"

Finally, the Pyronite relented. "Right now, the active leader of the palace is Klamin J'Oli of the Nebula Guard, since the Queen is unable to perform her duties. I can take you to him, easy."

"Thank you," Kan said gratefully. "Now, I just need one more thing before we go –––"

Heatrian's body pulsated and quivered, threatening to lose his humanoid shape. "No ––– I have done all that is requested of me ––– whatever else you may need will just have to wait."

" ––– I need my tunic and leggings," Kan continued, as if he didn't hear the Pyronite's protest, "and all my gear: utility belt, lighsaber, liquid cable, etc. Where have you stowed it?"

"Oh, well, that is an easy enough task to fulfill," Heatrian said. "Klamin told me to bring you your clothes when you were up and about." He reached into the folds of his fire-resistant bright green tunic and withdrew a small blackened heap of charred cloth. The Pyronite stared contemplatively for a moment at the bundle, then casually shrugged, handing the burned garments to Kan. "I must apologize in advance for their loss of quality," Heatrian said. "They were rather good clothing, but too flimsy for being stored at such a high temperature."

Kan stared at the remains of what had been his best tunic and forced himself to smile reassuringly at Heatrian. "Ah, well, it can't be amended ––– you shouldn't be expected to be able to keep them from burning, since you are made of fire," he said bravely.

"Not fire," Heatrian corrected. "_Lava._"

"Same thing."

"No, it isn't the same," Heatrian corrected. "They have completely different definitions. The definition of fire, according to the Zylxxian dictionary, is _combustion or burning, in which substances combine chemically with oxygen from the air and typically give out bright light, heat, and smoke. _As for lava, the definition is_ hot molten or semifluid rock erupted from a volcano or fissure, or solid rock resulting from cooling of this_. See? They are not even remotely similar. Some people have incorrectly placed magma under the same category as lava, however, they are not the same thing as many people would assume. To show the differences between lava and magma, I would have to go into great detail about the nature and structure of volcanoes and volcanic activity –––"

"Some other time," Kan said impatiently. "Okay, Mr. Professor, since you seem to be so much more knowledgeable than me in all things, would you kindly direct me to Klamin so that I can get some proper garments on?"

Heatrian looked offended. "I am not a professor!" he said with dignity.

"Well, then, you're a nerd," Kan answered hotly.

The Pyronite looked confused for a moment. "No, I am not a nerd," he said. Suddenly his eyes lit up with a strange fiery gleam. "I am WICKED!"

Kan's eyes nearly fell out of his sockets. "You ––– Aedan!" he yelled.

"Aedan? No, GOOD, I am not Aedan," Heatrian said. "I am a WICKED initiate; WICKED Master Terry has agreed to act as my sponsor. He and Kien are WICKEDLY teaching me how to hone in on my WICKED skills as a WICKED. I do not understand how you could have mistaken me for a nerd in the first place."

"Well, normally from a Wicked Club member I would expect less correct usage of language and more 'wickeds'"

"Well, you GOOD, I am not yet used to being a WICKED, so you will have to forgive my occasional UNWICKEDNESS."

"I would welcome your occasional UNWICKEDNESS," Kan said.

"That is not a very wise thing to say. If the WICKED King heard you say that –––"

"Oh, no, I didn't mean that," Kan said. "Come on; let's go find Klamin. Why is everything so quiet here? Did everyone leave?"

"Quiet? How can it be quiet if I am shouting WICKED into your ear?" Lava sputtered all over the floor as the Pyronite screamed. "It is not quiet! It is LOUD! WICKED!"

"Have it your own way," Kan said. "Where is everyone else?"

"Klamin is better at explaining such GOODNESS than I am," Heatrian said huffily. "Come ––– I will WICKEDLY take you to him. WICKED!"

"Finally," Kan murmured. "But this new member thing is worrying me. There are seven members in the Wicked Club ––– eight, now that Heatrian has joined. What if other boys want to join?"

Luckily, Heatrian did not hear the commentary, and Kan did not bother to finish his thought; he scurried after the swiftly retreating Pyronite.


	20. The Shapeshifter Spy

**chapter 20**

Kan ran up to Heatrian, who had paused before a door that looked no different from the other entrances of the palace. The Pyronite turned disgusted eyes upon Kan, who was loudly panting and holding his sides. Heatrian walked too fast for him ––– he shouldn't be expected to be a marathon runner after two weeks of being bedridden.

"Where ––– are ––– we?" Kan puffed.

"This is Klamin's private office," Heatrian said coldly, forgetting to add his "wickeds" and "goods" to his sentence. "He said that no one is allowed to enter, especially when he is in there, but I go in, sometimes."

"Then maybe we should use our manners by respecting his wishes and waiting for him to come out," Kan suggested weakly.

Heatrian's skin pulsated and turned a dark red color, a sign Kan had come to interpret as the Pyronite becoming impatient or angry at him. And Kan knew by now that neither of these sentiments made a Pyronite a very pleasant creature to be around. "No," Heatrian said firmly. "WICKED Terry says rules GOOD. We be WICKED and don't waste time; go in _now_."

"Oh, very well," Kan said, annoyed. "But don't blame me if he gets angry and throws us out."

"One thing I have learned when dealing with Klamin: when Klamin gets angry, he doesn't throw people out. He kills them."

"Oh, how very…comforting," Kan remarked sarcastically.

"I never said Klamin was comforting," the Pyronite said. "I only said that he will be able to WICKEDLY administer to all of your needs, both WICKED and GOOD."

Heatrian's body shimmered and seemed to collapse in on itself. Kan watched as the Pyronite's "limbs" lengthened and darkened to a dull blackish color. This action suddenly reminded Kan of lava slowly hardening into black volcanic rock. Why was Heatrian hardening? Was he dying?

Then Kan realized why Heatrian had hardened his appendages into stone ––– the door was not able to withstand the heat of molten lava, so the only way Heatrian could open the door was by partially cooling himself. Kan wondered if turning into stone was comfortable.

Heatrian flexed one of his stone fists and grinned at Kan. "Yo yo, Master! The WICKED embassy has come!" he shouted, knocking loudly on the door. There was no response from within.

"He must not be home," Kan said after a tense moment of waiting.

Heatrian gave him one long withering look of contempt before turning back to the door. "Ahem!" he said. "Master! WICKED Heatrian has come with that GOOD little human child that Heatrian was told to feed! Let us in!"

They still received no answer. The black door frowned forbiddingly at them.

Then the Pyronite lost patience. He raised his fist again and struck malevolently at the door. There was a terrific _crack _as the obstruction shattered from the impact and crumbled into pieces at Heatrian's feet.

There was a stifled exclamation from within the darkened room. "_Chudibwa! Uhn-kiato jioma yiyi pyro ni ni yah haro yuni!"_

"_Nipasa Kan Enik jioma dorm ari!" _Heatrian protested in the same language.

Kan heard the rustle of papers being hastily stacked together and a drawer slam shut with a resounding _click _as Klamin locked it. There was a brief scuffle as the Zylxxian shifted in the dim light. He tripped over something and began to yell in a strange chattering language again.

"Oh, shut up, it's not _my _fault you left the hydrospanner on the floor after you threw it there in a fit of anger," Heatrian shot back, unconsciously switching back to Basic.

Klamin suddenly emerged from the black interior, looking strangely pale and haggard. His Mak-Oki hung lifelessly at his sides, and his eyes were an odd blue color.

_Wait a second, _Kan thought, _Since when did Klamin have blue eyes?_

"_Sefti opiad,_" Heatrian said sharply to Klamin.

"Oh," Klamin mumbled, "excuse me for a moment."

He turned around, facing his back to Kan and Heatrian, and began to cough and choke vigorously. Then he turned back around, looking much more like his robust old self. Yet Kan could not help gazing suspiciously at the Zylxxian ––– now his eyes were their regular color again: brown. But Kan could have sworn they were blue five seconds ago. What had Klamin been doing in that dark room anyway? Something was going on here, and Kan didn't like the looks of it. He didn't trust any of them, and especially not Klamin.

_Oh, chill out. Maybe that's just what Zylxxian eyes do. Maybe they just color shift according to mood. Don't be so suspicious of people, Kan._

"It seems as though you've recovered after your long illness," Klamin said in Basic, addressing Kan. "I am very glad to see that. The Jedi Commander was very worried about you."

Something in Klamin's voice triggered something in Kan's brain. There was something very odd about what Klamin had just said. _The Jedi Commander. He must be speaking of Adriaan. But how is that odd?_

_ " Zylxxians do not have the proper vocal cords to speak anything other than their own language." _Adriaan had said that, however long ago that was. At least a week, though if Heatrian had told him that it had been a year ago, Kan would not have been surprised. That was why Kan had felt strange when Klamin said _the Jedi Commander. _ It had set off a bell in his mind. But what was the significance of Adriaan talking about vocal cords?

_Because Klamin just spoke to me in Basic._

Kan swerved abruptly and banged his head against the wall. Klamin's tentacled head immediately swiveled at the sound. Kan rubbed his head, feeling very awkward under Klamin's mesmerizing eyes.

"Are you all right, kid?" Klamin asked kindly. "Perhaps you still have need of further recovery…"

Kan's mind was racing. He could not believe it ––– this was impossible. Yet it had happened. Klamin, who was a Zylxxian, had just spoken very good Basic. And according to Adriaan ––– whose word Kan did not doubt ––– Zylxxians lacked the vocal cords to speak Basic. That could mean two things: That Klamin, like Adriaan, had mastered languages considered impossible for his species; or two, that Klamin was not really a Zylxxian. He looked like a Zylxxian, but shapeshifters could imitate the physical appearance of almost any being. But Kan had heard that it took immense concentration for a shapeshifter to stay in one shape for an extended period of time. It seemed very possible that Klamin was not really what he said he was. But if he was not a Zylxxian, why was he posing as one?

_Because he is a spy of the Confederacy of Independant Systems._

"Kan? Would you like to be escorted to your quarters? I am sorry, but I have some extremely pressing business, so I cannot be detained for very long. You might've noticed the strange absence of employees and staff in this palace. Unfortunately, this is true for the entire city, but I can't waste much time explaining to you."

He could not do this. He could not possibly look at this impostor in the eye and speak to him, as if he didn't know. But he had to do something, and fighting this gigantic shapeshifter on his first morning of recovery was not exactly at the top of his list.

"No, I am fine," Kan said shortly. "However, I am very hungry, and I will be very angry if I am not fed on the premises. Then, while I am eating, I demand that someone explain to me what is going on here. It is obvious to me that Adriaan has left to command the Republic troops, so that leaves me, her Apprentice, to look after things. So, if you don't mind, now that I am fully recovered, I would like to be informed of my duties. Oh, and it is mandatory that you surrender my lightsaber to me, or you will find yourself in a very tricky predicament."

Klamin laughed, the relief clearly showing on his face. "It will be done," he said. "I would not like to be cornered by an unarmed Jedi Apprentice, that's for sure."

"Jedi are never unprotected; we always have the Force, but can use it only for defense," Kan said frostily. "And even a Jedi Apprentice can prove more than a match for an army of droids." He felt like clapping a hand over his mouth, he felt so stupid. But the boast had just slipped from his tongue. _Okay, maybe I'm stretching a bit about being able to defeat an entire ARMY. Not even a Jedi Knight could do that._

Klamin, still chuckling, tossed the plain silver lightsaber hilt to Kan. "Sure, sure. Just stay out from underfoot, okay, kid?" he said, nonchalantly tousling Kan's already messy hair and swaggering out into the hallway. "Like I said, your Jedi Commander gave me a lot to do here. I have informed Heatrian of all your duties, and he will administer to your needs and answer questions as necessary. See ya later."

_Stay out from underfoot? _ Kan felt annoyed. Klamin was treating him like a baby. Of course, Jedi Masters called him things like "Little One" "Young Apprentice" or even just plain "Child" but Kan endured it because they were just so _old. _Personality-wise, Klamin couldn't have been much older than Adriaan, which meant that he was Kan's senior by only about four years. So he had no right to go around treating Kan like a run-of-the-mill toddler who got into everything.

Heatrian did not look pleased at the prospect of administering to Kan's needs. "_Luniati! GOOD Kan Enik non uki chomp laras!" _he hissed angrily aside at the Zylxxian. _"Beniti ubu pyri jia-tu."_

Klamin rolled his eyes and leaned over Heatrian menacingly. "_Heatrian idiot ki-ki tetara dix chua," _he said, his dark eyes snapping as hotly as the Pyronite's molten body.

Heatrian glared at Klamin. Klamin glared back. Kan glared at both of them, wishing that he was back in the medical center, where everything had been peaceful and quiet. Well, now that he was awake, he had no excuse for shirking. But he needed them to stop arguing over him so that he could learn what duties Adriaan had specified for him. Maybe he could ask for a transport so that he could get out to the battle…

"Big. Fat. Idiot. GOOD," Heatrian said, and the ice was broken. The battle of the wills was over. Klamin smirked triumphantly and sauntered out of sight. Heatrian glared after his retreating back, muttering something about an "idiotic GOOD Shi'Odo." Kan was going to ask Heatrian what a Shi'Odo was, but the contemptuous look on the Pyronite's face made the question die on his lips. Perhaps it was better not to know.

Heatrian suddenly whirled around and stood an uncomfortable five centimeters from Kan's face. Heatrian's body heat could keep an entire house warm, and the glowing, fiery skin made Kan squint. "Well, you GOOD, are you still hungry, or did the sight of Klamin GOODLY scolding me like an old woman curb your appetite?" he asked, sarcasm dripping in his voice.

"No, I was actually getting very impatient with him yelling at you," Kan said quickly. "Can we go get something to eat now?"

But Heatrian didn't seem to be listening to him. He was standing very still, his arms at his sides. "You are a…Jedi, correct?" he asked suddenly, his eyes narrowing.

"Y…yes," Kan stuttered. "Well,…not really. I'm a Padawan ––– a Jedi-in-training. Why do you ask?"

Heatrian did not answer immediately. His body folded over, and his green jumpsuit glowed with an intense light as more molten lava poured into it. It sort of reminded Kan of a rock-back lizard pulling into its shell.

Heatrian suddenly snapped erect, the lava rising up out of his jumpsuit and up to the top of his head. "Well, then, Jedi Apprentice, if that is what you are called," the Pyronite began, "here is the situation…"

"Well, actually, my name is Kan Enik," Kan interrupted. "Jedi Padawan is just my status."

"I know what your name is," Heatrian said impatiently. "Commander ell Talaan told me all about you, before the comm systems broke down."

"Adriaan?" Kan began to feel excited. "Where? When? Does she want me at the battle with her? Take me to her at once!"

"She was on the battlefield when she contacted me, two weeks ago; no, she does not want you out at the battlefield with her; I apologize, but no one within the city may at any time leave the boundaries. You should know that by now, with half the population dying or dead…"

Kan did a double take. "Dead? Dying? What do you mean? What's going on here?"

"It is the reason for all the silence," Heatrian said. "I asked if you were a Jedi because I think that you may be able to help us."

"I'd be happy to," Kan said swiftly. "But what's all this about half the population being killed off? Has there been a battle here?"

"A battle, but not with droids," Heatrian said. "We are battling something we cannot even see. But it is GOOD to speak of things like this in an open hallway. Come, we will WICKEDLY get you something to eat, and then, we will find Terry and Na'thin, who have been carrying on your work from here. Then I will tell you exactly what we are up against."


	21. Catching Up

**chapter 21**

"You see, many things have changed since Joh-ma Kwel's attack. About three hours after your blackout, Joh-ma was apprehended and taken down, but not before three quarters of the level where the medical center is was destroyed by a trip mine. Luckily for you, was not the emergency room was in the quarter that was not demolished."

"There weren't any signs of damage that I could see," Kan said. "What has a demolished level of a palace got to do with the lack of people? Did they all get trapped underneath the collapsing level or something?"

"You forget that you have been asleep for two weeks," Heatrian said. "And no, no one was killed by the explosion itself."

"Oh." Kan focused his concentration on the little wisps of steam rising from his mug of tea. They were in what Kan guessed to be the palace kitchens ––– there was an oven, a long rotating counter, a food chute to deliver food up to the higher levels, a dishwasher, and hundreds of cupboards lining the walls. The only thing it lacked to truly be a kitchen was a cook. It didn't even have a chef droid.

Terry spun around in his rotating stool lazily, lifting up his legs so that they whacked the table whenever he completed a circle. The mug of tea shook and sloshed liquid all over the clean white surface as Terry's feet slammed against the counter with a satisfying _thump. _

Na'thin slurped noisily at a disgusting brown liquid inside his clear glass cup and smacked his lips appreciatively. Heatrian looked at Na'thin and opened his mouth to say something, most likely about how his manners were inappropriate for the table. But he must have thought better, or more rather, "Wickeder" of it, for he closed his mouth and started to examine a scratch on the plasteel countertop.

"Could you stop that, Terry?" Kan asked politely. Terry grinned and motioned with his hands, using the Force to accelerate his spinning. Kan sighed and turned back to Heatrian. "So what is this about the decrease in population? I remember that when we first arrived two weeks ago, the city was filled to bursting with refugees –––"

"Like I said, things have GOODLY changed since Actin 3 was released," Heatrian said.

Kan felt something like a little _pong _inside his brain. "Actin 3? I've heard that name before. Hang on, my memory's still a little fuzzy…oh, that Weequay Joh-ma said something about releasing it if Hyrax didn't sign a treaty or something…so I suppose that she refused to come to terms with the CIS? That is good."

Heatrian coughed. "Um, actually, Joh-ma never even gave her an hour to think it over. Thanks to Commander ell Talaan, who intercepted a CIS spy, we discovered that a scientist, who had just recently returned from an excursion in the mountains, had been infected by Actin 3, and released into the city so the virus could do its work. Thanks to the Pyronite Specialist Squad, however, we were able to dispose of the body before it could spread the sickness. But later it was discovered that the spy himself, the medic in charge of the palace hospital, had died from the virus just a few hours before the explosion. Unfortunately, it was a Nebula Guard idiot who discovered the body, because next thing we knew, the guard was down with Actin 3, and had already spread the virus to several other guard members in his squad."

"So now it has spread through the city," Kan murmured. "That's terrible. But why didn't the Pyronites get infected?"

"We do not know," Heatrian replied. "I think it is because Actin 3 originated from the same mountain range as Pyronites, so we have developed an immunity to it. However, I fear it is not the same for these weak beings who prefer to live in dirt and scum and polluted air than in the free, clean atmosphere of the mountains. But it has always been that way on Zylxx: the Pyronites in their volcanoes, the Zylxxians and other weaklings in the cities."

"Than why are you here? Why did you leave your volcano, if it was so much better there?" Kan asked.

Heatrian was beginning to look uncomfortable. That is, if lava could look uncomfortable. His skin had turned a dull reddish-black color. "It's…well, complicated."

"I have a question, WICKED Heatrian," Na'thin said. "How much do you get paid for your job?"

The Pyronite's skin seemed to lose its luster completely for a minute. The hardened hands that were resting on the table suddenly melted and pooled over the surface, burning a hole in the countertop. Terry whooped and clapped his hands with delight. "I. Don't. Get. Paid," Heatrian said finally, saying each word slowly and clearly.

"Hey, that's totally GOOD!" Na'thin screamed. "Not getting paid for being WICKED? That is so unfairly GOOD! Call the police! Unleash a pack of rancors on them! GOOD!"

"Um, Na'thin, sorry to interrupt your WICKED tantrum, but no one gets paid for being WICKED," Terry said. "Not even the WICKED King."

Kan was watching Heatrian's face closely. There was something about the subject of the conversation that the Pyronite did not like. Kan didn't know why being asked about his job made Heatrian uncomfortable. Perhaps he had a job beneath his dignity, and he was ashamed of it. Perhaps he didn't want to tell Kan that he was the chief rancor-dropping scooper.

"So, ah…" Kan decided he needed to change the subject, and fast, before Heatrian burned another hole in the countertop. "I suppose it is because the possibility of carrying the virus is why no one is allowed to leave the city, correct?"

"WICKEDLY on the dot."

_Shoot, _Kan thought, _that means I can't get to the battlefield and help Adriaan. What a boring predicament._

Aloud he said, "Does Adriaan know about the virus?"

Heatrian nodded. "WICKEDLY, yes."

"No, GOODLY, yes," Terry interrupted. "Remember WICKED rule 217A: People like Obi-wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Jocasta Nu, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Anakin Skywalker, and Adriaan ell Talaan, are GOOD. No exceptions."

"Obi-one? Mace Winder? Jo-pasta New? Ki-Adi-Munchi? Manikin Skywalker?" Heatrian asked. "Who are they, WICKEDS?"

"GOOD Jedi," Terry said. "You don't even want to know."

"Yeah." Na'thin hopped off the stool and started to do toe-touches. "One time I got up six hours late because I was too WICKEDLY lazy to go to my battle calming class with GOOD old Mundi," he said. "Next thing I knew, I was being mercilessly and GOODLY stripped of my warm WICKED blankets by Miss Ter Mace Windu, and was being GOODLY commanded to do Temple cleanup duty for one month for my impudence. But Masters should be more considerate of WICKEDS ––– what WICKED needs to be calm to battle? Anyway, I gave him WICKED and more for the intrusion."

"What did you do?" Kan asked, imagining that Na'thin had unleashed an army of mutant, rabid rancors to teach Mace WICKED 101.

Na'thin puffed up his chest proudly. "I spit a muja fruit seed into his eyeball."

"You _what?" _

"Mace screamed WICKEDLY ––– I could hear him from my bedroom," Terry supplied.

Kan slapped his head. "Good grief. Why do you two bantha-brains always steer the conversation toward your miniscule wicked deeds? We have more important things to discuss than Wicked 101, don't you agree, Heatrian?"

"No, I am WICKED, therefore I do not agree with you, GOOD," Heatrian said, glaring menacingly at Kan.

"Oh yah!" Na'thin and Terry screamed, jumping up and capering around each other. "WICKED Three against GOOD one! We get to talk about WICKED deeds!"

"_After _we decide what to do for the present," Kan said.

The wicked threesome stared at him for several moments.

"After we decide what to _WICKEDLY_ do for the present," Kan amended.

At the word "wicked" the boy's ears immediately pricked up, and they began to look interested again. "WICKED."

"Good. I mean ––– WICKED," Kan said, relieved. He turned to the Pyronite. "How did Adriaan find out about the virus? Did she have any plans on how to deal with it?"

"The last communication with the Republic troops was two weeks ago, as I WICKEDLY said before," Heatrian said. "By then, we had been alerted of the virus, and had been able to warn the Republic commander from retreating back into the city."

"_Retreating?" _Kan hoped he heard Heatrian wrong. "You don't mean –––"

"Yes." The Pyronite's face was grim. "In the last battle update, the WICKEDS were GOODLY losing, and GOOD ell Talaan was considering pulling back her troops into the city. Luckily, she was informed of Actin 3 in time to save her troops from it. She was very upset at the news ––– she was unusually worried about you. If she knew better, she'd be worried more about her GOOD old self than someone as WICKED as you are."

"You don't know my Master," Kan said. "She may be GOOD, but she has the heart of a WICKED. What plans did she make as a counterattack to Actin 3?"

"You are putting too much faith into the young GOOD," Heatrian said.

"Yeah," Na'thin sniggered. "Her puny brain went dead ––– couldn't think of no WICKED plan."

"Adriaan GOODLY gave us up to Actin 3," Terry said.

Kan stood up suddenly, knocking over the cup of tea in his haste. "How _dare _you insult Adriaan, after all she has done for you!" he shouted. "Just think of the sacrifices she's had to make to take you on this mission! And all she gets in return is disrespect from you! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!"

"Unfortunately, we aren't ashamed of ourselves," Terry said.

"Hey, WICKED Terry, do you remember any time that a GOOD has ever helped us WICKEDS?" Na'thin asked.

Terry's eyebrows furrowed. "No, I can't say I haven't."

Kan whirled around, frustrated. "Fine. Be that way. I'll do this on my own, without your dumb old WICKED aid." He stepped through the sliding doors.

"Hey, WICKED, where are you going?" Na'thin called.

"Yeah, why can't you stay here and be WICKED with us?" Terry asked.

Kan stopped but did not turn. "Because being wicked doesn't help anyone; it causes deaths. If your club would only use your wickedness to help others, then you would have my respect. But instead, you formed a club that excludes people and acts like it is superior to the rest of the universe. That sort of club does not belong in the Jedi Order. I'm going to find out how to stop this virus, and I can't do it with you idiots yelling in my ears. So this is where we split up. Good-bye."

"Wait!" Heatrian called. "You can't do this without WICKED help –––"

But the door had already shut. Kan was gone.


	22. Caught Red Handed

**chapter 22**

Kan stood in a shadowed corner, pressing his back against the wall as he listened for approaching footsteps. He was standing in the hallway facing Klamin's private office, planning to trespass on a high-ranking Nebula Guard's property. Which meant that if he was caught, he could be fined a minimum of thirty-million credits, or be sentenced to seven months in the detention bloc. But Kan was not planning to get caught ––– he intention was to slip in and slip out, unnoticed, and hopefully find info on Actin 3. But that chance was slim: first of all because he wasn't quite sure if Klamin really was a CIS spy, or knew anything about Actin 3 that Kan did not. Secondly, even if Klamin was a Separatist, it was highly probable that he did not leave that sort of information just lying around his office. And if Klamin was _not _a spy, but had somehow acquired the info, Kan had no idea what type of security Klamin protected his office with.

His heart nearly stopped beating when he felt a faint tapping vibration on the wall. Someone was approaching. His insides curled up as he tried to pack himself as small as possible into the corner. The footsteps stopped ––– Kan stood very still, counting the minutes. After three had passed, and the footsteps did not resume, he began to breathe freely again.

He slowly stuck his head out into the hallway, shuffling his feet toward the door. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. _Ready: One. Two. Three. Four. _

He opened his eyes. _Five. NOW!_

He zoomed across the space, slid like he was making a home run in a laserball game, and came to a stop before the door. He pressed his flat palm against the cold metal surface and listened for vibrations, using the Force to sharpen his senses.

His brows drew together. He could sense no living presence inside the room; couldn't even hear breathing. But there was something strangely _alive _in there, in a disembodied, watchful sort of way. Perhaps it was an evil sith vision Klamin had sent to guard his secret vault filled with treasures of unfathomable worth…

_You're imagining things, _he assured himself, _now go!_

Just then several things happened to him at once. First, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind him. A microsecond later, before he was able to react, he felt something hard and rocky press into his back and wrap around his arms. Kan opened his mouth to scream, only to feel something slimy, wet, and sticky hit him in the mouth, stifling his shout. He kicked with his legs, only to get grappled by something warm and hairy and greasy and altogether very unpleasant.

"Let me go!" Kan yelled, his breath finally returning.

"Shh. Shut up, WICKED, unless you want GOOD old Klamin to hear you," Heatrian whispered into his ear.

"What?!" Kan stopped his struggling to let it all sink in. "HEATRIAN!"

"Yes, what do you want, GOOD?" Heatrian asked.

"Ow, stop kicking me, WICKED Kan," Terry said from below. "Man, you can sure fight like a WICKED when taken by surprise. You gave me a pretty WICKED bruise."

"Wha –––" Kan didn't know whether to yell at them or laugh with amusement. "Why did you attack me like that? One of us could've gotten killed! And what the heck was that slimy thing you threw at me, Terry?"

"That wasn't Terry, it was me," Na'thin piped up, popping around the corner. "I had to keep you from screaming like a GOOD little girl, so I used my piece of Chi-chaw gum on you. What a waste of candy."

"You _what?!"_ Heatrian finally released him from the stranglehold, and Kan crumpled to the floor, shocked. "You ––– you mean that disgusting, wet, slimy, sticky, gummy thing was actually –––"

Na'thin dug inside his tunic pocket, withdrew a slim packet of gum, unwrapped the last six pieces, and stuffed them into his mouth. "Yep."

"_Gross!_" Kan choked and rubbed his face vigorously to get rid of Na'thin's germs. "What's the big idea, anyway? Can't I do anything without some loudmouthed WICKED idiot trying to apprehend me?"

"Unfortunately WICKED for you, no," Na'thin said, pulling the gum out of his mouth with his fingers and chewing loudly.

Terry sat up and rubbed his head. "Yo, Na'thin, can I have a chaw?"

"Sure." Na'thin removed the gum from his mouth, ripped off a piece, and handed it to his companion. "Enjoy. It's Bantha meat flavored. Pretty WICKED."

Kan grimaced as Terry crammed the used gum into his mouth. "Man, Terry, you need a bath big-time," he said, sniffing disgustedly at the dirty youth.

Terry looked at him curiously. "Why?"

"Because," Kan groped for an explanation. "Because, well ––– the Masters like for you to practice good hygiene."

Both Terry and Na'thin looked confused. "But there's no GOOD old Masters to smell us, so why should we GOODLY bother?"

"Oh, GOOD grief," Kan asked. "Heatrian, what do you think you guys are doing, sneaking up on me when I'm trying to get something important done?"

"Trying to WICKEDLY help you, of course," the Pyronite said. "What else?"

"We were feeling GOOD after you left," Na'thin said. "You were right, for once. We should be using our WICKEDNESS to help WICKEDS."

"So we decided to come and WICKEDLY help you!" Terry finished.

"You attacked me," Kan said indignantly. "How is that helpful?"

"Well, there were two GOOD sides to the predicament," Heatrian said. "We could either let you GOODLY let you walk right into the body-heat sensor located right inside the door, or we could have WICKEDLY attacked you to prevent you from setting off the alarm –––"

Kan leaped to his feet and peered at the door. "That's funny; I didn't sense the heat sensor. Is that the only security set up inside this room?"

"Klamin is not as idiotically GOOD as you think," Heatrian said. "Are you sure that you're a Jedi? You don't act like one. There are at least five different levels of security protecting his office ––– though there may be more that I haven't found yet. So watch your step."

"Great." Kan was beginning to get irritated with Heatrian's doubt that Kan had Force abilities. Did he really seem that stupid?

"Well, are we WICKEDLY going or what?" Na'thin asked.

"Yes, GOOD, if we're going to go, then we'd better go now," Heatrian said. "Since when did someone like WICKED Klamin sit around and wait for someone to break into his office? It is forty-five minutes past the ninth hour since Sy and Leeto have risen. That means it is WICKEDLY lunchtime, for those who have the third shift, that is. Because of the circumstances, the staff takes shifts. The third shift is Klamin's. The next shift is due in fifteen minutes."

"So this is my only chance to break into his office," Kan said.

"Until the fourteenth hour; that is the third dinner shift," Heatrian said.

Kan took a deep breath. "I can't wait that long," he said finally. "You told me that every hour, another life is lost. We have to find a way to stop this virus from spreading to the entire planet."

"And while we're at it, we might as well find some WICKED info that will help WICKED Aedan and GOOD Adriaan win the battle," Terry added.

The Pyronite's arms began to harden. He flexed one of his fists and grinned at Kan. "Okay then: let's go!" He aimed a punch at the door.

"No, no, Heatrian," Kan said, coming quickly between the rock hard fist and the door. "That isn't the way to do it. We've got to be _sneaky _if we want to get out of this alive. If you break down that door, Klamin will know who's been in here, and he'll be coming for you."

Heatrian looked thoughtful. "Well, I _could _just put the blame on you –––"

"But that's lying!" Kan said, shocked.

The Pyronite shrugged. "Well, he may not kill _you, _since you're a Jedi and have that sort of authority; you know, to go around breaking down doors…"

"Not even a Jedi has that authority," Kan said sternly. "And you should be ashamed of yourself, planning to stick the blame on me if we get caught."

Heatrian smirked, showing a mouth filled with bright orange magma. "Then if I were you, I'd plan on not getting GOODLY caught."

Out of Heatrian's sight-line, Kan rolled his eyes. He almost wished that he had Aedan with him, instead of this exasperating heap of talking lava. At least Aedan didn't look nearly so intimidating.

Heatrian moved his hands along the door, as if trying to sense where the body-heat detecting security system was. Finally he straightened and looked Kan in the eye. "When Klamin leaves his office, he activates a GOOD thermal sensor that is set off when it senses the heat of an intruder's body. When Klamin returns, he switches off the alarm with his Nebula ID docs. That gives us two WICKED ways of breaching the system. The first way is to WICKEDLY swipe the card from the inner pocket of Klamin's tunic as he is eating his lunch ––– and that would take an expert, WICKED con artist to do that."

Na'thin's face brightened. "Hey! I'm the WICKED snack snatcher con artist dude in the WICKED Club!" he told Heatrian excitedly.

Heatrian shook his head. "Klamin is not as GOOD as you think. He'd be able to smell you a mile away…"

Kan held up a hand to prevent Na'thin from interrupting. "You've only told us the first way," he said. "What's the other way of infiltrating his office?"

"The second way is only possible for a Pyronite," Heatrian said. "So unless you know how to lower your body temperature so that it is undetectable by the thermal sensors…"

"That won't be a problem," Kan said unexpectedly.

Heatrian gave Kan a strange look, as if Kan had said something really stupid. "That's impossible. Only a being that can withstand drastic changes in body temperature can do this…"

"Me, Terry, and Na'thin mastered that power in our Elite Force classes."

"So the Force can do that for Jedi?" Heatrian asked in disbelief.

"Yes." Kan yanked on the short hem of his medic gown in a businesslike fashion. "We're ready to go."

The Pyronite hardly looked convinced. Finally, he shrugged. "Suit yourselves. But Kan will be the one GOODLY responsible for it all if we're caught."

"Why am I given all the blame?" Kan asked indignantly. "What if Terry and Na'thin blow our cover?"

Heatrian shrugged again. "You'll just have to be responsible for their mistake."

"Why?"

"Because you are the only one on this team that is GOOD, and therefore if anything GOOD happens, you'll be the one to blame."

"Great, just great," Kan muttered.

Terry looked at the Aquahawks chrono on his wrist. "Eleven minutes until the fourth shift."

"We'd better get moving," Kan said. "Terry, Na'thin, you know what to do?"

They nodded. Heatrian watched expectantly.

The three Padawans took a deep breath and looked each other in the eye. No words were spoken, because there was nothing to say. And it was a waste of energy anyway, for to do this, it would take immense concentration, not only because it was hard, but because this Force skill was so _different _from the others. When a Jedi wished to use the Force to sharpen his senses, he reached out for it, allowing himself to be connected to the world around him. But if one wished to lower his body temperature so that it was undetectable by thermal sensors, a Jedi would need to do the opposite. He would need to _disconnect _himself from the Living Force, because his body would have to slow its life processes. It was a tricky position.

Kan spread out his feet into a horse stance, like Adriaan had taught him, and held out his right hand, willing his heart to slow down and his blood to stop pumping and his lungs to stop breathing. They would need to slow all their systems to almost a complete stop. He felt Terry and Na'thin join with him, taking a deep breath, exhaling, letting go. He felt the swift fluttering of their hearts beating inside his mind.

_Boom._

_ Boom._

A rock-solid Heatrian did a few subtle maneuvers, and the door was open. His glossy obsidian body slithered through with a strange liquid-like quality. The Padawans followed close behind.

Kan could feel the chill in his bones, the coldness of his skin. He felt like a reptile drowning in frozen water. He grasped Terry's hand and suppressed a shiver ––– his hand was as frigid as ice.

He felt Na'thin's lungs starting to expand, and he began to feel worried. How much farther until they were out of the sensor's beam? The younger Padawans were not as skilled as Kan and could not hold on for much longer. He felt Terry's pulse quickening, and he squeezed the boy's hand. _Just a little longer, _he said to them desperately.

_This feel GOOD, _he heard Terry and Na'thin answer.

Na'thin's lungs suddenly exhaled, and Kan felt rather than saw the sensor beam fix on them. Calling upon the Force, he whirled around and Force-pulled Na'thin and Terry out of the sensor's range. Kan sprinted the last few meters and skidded to a stop before the Pyronite. He gulped one long breath of air, and he was back in the real world again. _That was too close._

Na'thin rubbed his head from where it had hit the wall. "Yo, WICKED Kan, thanks for WICKEDLY saving my WICKED neck."

"You were outrageously WICKED!" Terry said admiringly. "That was some hot WICKED control of the Force!"

Kan blushed underneath their praise. It wasn't often when a Wicked Club member complimented anyone. "Hey, it was nothing. Really."

"Then nothing is WICKED," Terry said, clapping Kan on the back.

"So, what next, fellow WICKED?" Na'thin asked, jumping to his feet and staring at Kan.

_This is very strange, _Kan thought to himself in amusement, _I wasn't close to these kids ––– barely knew their names, even, yet we seemed so connected a few seconds ago. We knew each other inside and out, like we were good friends. Yet we aren't…or weren't, judging by their reformed attitude toward me. They're looking to me more as a leader now. Maybe this mission will help us all understand each other better._

_ "Don't count on it."_

Heatrian's skin was alternately changing from black to deep crimson, a sign that he was getting nervous. "Ten minutes till the GOOD old fourth shift," he said impatiently.

Kan shook the fog from his brain and tried to make himself focus on the task ahead. "Okay, we've made it in here: where do we start?"

"Not so fast, GOOD little human," the Pyronite said. "We've only breached the _first _security system."

"What?"_ There's MORE?_

"Oh, don't worry, I know this place inside and out ––– it's very easy to get past the others. He codes files that he doesn't want people to look at."

"Then those are the files we want," Kan said. "Where are they?"

Heatrian shrugged. "Around and about; somewhere in here, I guess."

"You _guess?"_

"Well, Klamin is not what you would call a tidy person ––– but don't worry, the codes are GOODLY easy to crack, and he can't hide them WICKEDLY anyway."

Kan looked around the room. It was not very lavish, considering Klamin's status, but it was large. There was almost no furniture in the room, except for an adjustable stool, a swiveling desk chair with extra armrests for the Zylxxian's Mak'Oki, and a long, black sofa with a few threadbare cushions.

His gaze snagged on the plain black desk in the center of the room. He moved closer to it. The ebony surface was not dull, he soon saw, but shiny, with iridescent flecks flickering against the dark. It reminded Kan somewhat of stars blinking against the night sky. A small holo, a computer, and a comm system lay on top of the table. Nothing out of the ordinary.

_ Something is wrong about the placement of that desk._

Heatrian was busy overriding the holocam that kept surveillance over the room. It was important that all data of their intrusion was erased, so that Klamin would not notice anything amiss. Terry and Na'thin were picking their noses and flicking boogers at each other. The only one not doing anything was Kan. He scooted his feet toward the edge of the desk.

Just then, something hard wrapped around his legs and yanked him backwards. Kan kicked back at his assailant and reached for the edge of the table, looking for support. The thing jerked him back with surprising strength and threw Kan against the wall.

"Traitor!" Kan yelled, springing to his feet to face the Pyronite, who had recoiled its rock arms and was standing over him. "What's the big idea –––" His hands went for his lightsaber that hung on his belt.

Heatrian looked at him calmly. "Shut up."

Kan felt his head starting to explode from rage. "_Shut up?! _Is that all you have to say?!"

"Yes," Heatrian said. "Unless you would care to know that that desk is protected by a fingerprint-identifying security code. It recognizes only Klamin ––– if you had touched that desk, you would have received a temporary paralyzing shock, and all the alarms would go off, and security guards will be pouring in here like GOOD wompa rats. According to the dumb GOOD old Zylxxian book of law, whoever is caught WICKEDLY trespassing is given a GOOD penalty of paying a gazillion credits, or getting his Mak'Oki chopped off. But since you don't have the money or the Mak'Oki, they would have to suffice with getting only a couple of ears chopped off –––"

Terry and Na'thin screamed and covered their ears, as if expecting officials to pop up out of nowhere and threaten to cut them off.

"But I've _got_ to see the files on that computer," Kan insisted. "You said the codes are easy to override. But how can you possibly override a fingerprint-identifier?"

"Easy," Heatrian said. "WICKEDLY watch."

He pressed his hand against the black surface of the desk. Kan watched wide-eyed, surprised that the table was able to withstand the heat of the Pyronite's hand. He stared as the lava conformed to the fingerprint mold. There was a soft _beep, _and an invisible drawer suddenly popped open from the desk.

"WICKED!" Terry, Heatrian, and Na'thin screamed.

"Good," Kan said in relief. Then, seeing the disapproving looks the boys gave him, he amended, "I mean…wicked."

"You don't add enough WICKED emphasis to the WICKED," Heatrian huffed.

Kan decided to ignore the Pyronite's comment. He bent over the drawer. He frowned, puzzled. "It's empty," he said in disbelief.

"GOOD!" the rest yelled.

"Stupid, idiotic, bantha-brained, GOOD Shi'Odo…" Heatrian hissed. "What's the point of locking a stupid GOOD old drawer?"

Kan was thinking hard. Before, when they had been waiting for Klamin to come out, he had heard a drawer slam before the Zylxxian had appeared. Perhaps this was the drawer he had closed. But why had he locked it, if it was empty?

Just then he had an idea. He bent over the drawer again, running his hands along the bottom edge. He felt a slight depression in the smooth plastoid surface. He pressed his finger into it.

There was a scraping sound as the desk moved away from Kan. He stepped back as the floor opened up before him. "Hypernovas!" he exclaimed.

"WICKED!" the boys shouted.

There was a shallow flight of steps leading down into what looked like a long, dark tunnel with no end. Kan and Heatrian stood on the first step. An icy wind rose up from the tunnel and blew in Kan's face, freezing his blood and chilling his bones. His flimsy gown flapped around his bare ankles. He shivered.

"Something is down there," Kan said.

"Something GOOD," Terry piped up.

"Something smelly," Na'thin added, holding his nose.

"Something _evil,_" Heatrian said quietly.

Kan turned, surprised to hear his thoughts being spoken by Heatrian. "You mean that you feel it too?" He had felt something of foreboding when he had placed his feet on the first step. He felt the Force sending a call out to him, warning him, of something, he didn't know what. He also heard a strange call from the darkness, beckoning to him, whispering of great power, and things he dreamt of only in the blackness of the night, when all his fears seemed to close around him, strangling him. Something was alternately drawing him and pulling him away from the tunnel, and it sent a paralyzing shock through his limbs, making it impossible to move, making it hard to even _breath._

"Pyronites feel many things that humans cannot," Heatrian said, almost hastily, Kan thought.

"It is the dark side that we are feeling," Kan said.

"The dark side?" Heatrian said. "What's that, WICKED?"

"The GOOD side of the Force," Terry said.

"Ugly girls and weak men use the dark side because they are too GOOD to use the WICKED side," Na'thin said.

"The dark side is a part of the Force a Jedi is forbidden to tap into," Kan said. "Unlike the Living Force ––– the Light side ––– the dark side is fueled by fear, anger, hate, revenge, and greed. Those who use the dark side think inwards, only of themselves."

The Pyronite looked interested. "Really? Falcon told me there was only one side to the Force."

"Who's Falcon?" Kan asked sharply.

"Oh, um…he's just this old man that used to be a member of the Jedi Order. When he retired, he moved to Zylxx."

"Master Falcon? Never heard of him," Kan said, suddenly suspicious. "Whatever this Falcon told you was a lie. There is a bad as well as a good side to the Force, just as there are sith and Jedi. While the sith commands the Force, bending it to their will, the Jedi merely surrender themselves to it, letting it guide them to do its will."

"Even more strangely WICKED," Heatrian said. "I was told that a Jedi is a Master of the Force. That is why they are called Jedi Masters."

"He was most likely just a scoundrel trying to deceive you and lead you down the wrong path," Kan said. "You must be careful about who to believe."

"Well, Falcon _is _sort of weird ––– kind of GOOD," Heatrian admitted reluctantly. "I only see him once or twice a year, and he's always with Klamin then. And I've never seen him at daytime ––– only at night, when the moons have set. And he says some GOOD, strange things sometimes. Something's not right here." He tapped his head to make his point. "He's odd."

"How is he odd?"

The Pyronite did not look comfortable. _What is wrong with him? _Kan thought. "Well, he's just…I dunno," Heatrian said, shrugging. "Uh…hey WICKED Terry, how much time do we have left?"

_Changed the subject abruptly, _Kan said to himself. Aloud he said. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to start down this tunnel, dark side or no dark side…"

"But, WICKED," Na'thin said, grabbing him by the arm. "The fourth shift is…"

"Klamin is…" Terry gestured wildly.

"The time is…" Heatrian stammered.

"What? What?!" Kan yelled, shaking Terry off him.

Just then an alarm sounded. "The third shift is over; it is now the tenth hour. Shift four has begun," a monotonic voice chimed. "Repeat; third shift, your break is over, make your way to the center hall…"

"Blasts! Bantha droppings!" Kan yelled. "Idiotic GOODS why didn't you tell me what the time was –––"

"You were too busy giving WICKED Heatrian a lecture on the difference between GOOD and WICKED, which he already knows," Terry said indifferently.

"Besides, we thought we'd like to add a little more…" Na'thin began.

"…Urgency to the GOOD situation," Heatrian and Terry finished.

Kan backed away from the steps. "We've got to get out of here…"

"What about the WICKED information?" Heatrian asked.

"Yeah! You're wasting the time we could've used eating!" Terry yelled.

"We'll have to come back later," Kan said desperately. "Now get out!"

"Wait." Heatrian moved toward the computer. "First let me get my datachip…"

"No, you idiot! Leave it! Get out, get out NOW!" Kan yelled, dragging Terry and Na'thin towards the door.

"No," Heatrian said firmly. "It's almost done copying. Just give me a few more WICKED seconds…"

"There _are _no more seconds!" Kan shrieked.

Terry cocked one ear. "Hey, I think I hear footsteps…"

Kan lunged for the desk and slammed the drawer shut. The desk shot back into it's place, barreling into Kan and sending him flying head over heels into the wall. He heard the much-dreaded sound of the door hissing open.

"Why, hello, GOOD old Klamin," Kan heard Terry say.


	23. Sneakier Tactics

✶ **Time Period: + one week ago✶ **

**chapter 23**

"Commander Lee! Take your troops out of that rat hole and pull back to sector 5! They're dropping trip mines all over the defenses!"

Kay Lee sprang to her feet and sidestepped a piece of shrapnel as it flew over her head. "Copy, Commander ell Talaan," she shouted into her wrist comlink as she dodged a torpedo that exploded several meters behind her. Surfing on the wave of air created from the imploding missile, she skidded to a stop behind the shelter of a demolished spider droid and contacted her clone commander. "Urak? This is Kay Lee. Tell the troops to pull back to sector 5 immediately."

"What's wrong, Commander Lee? Is there trouble?"

"Yes, big trouble," Kay Lee said. "The Seps have too much explosive power; Adriaan doesn't want to lose her troops, so she wants us all to retreat."

"Yes, Commander. Troops, pull back to sector 5! Pull back!"

Kay Lee followed the command, ducking and weaving through the debris so that she wouldn't become a visible target for the ion cannons stationed on the city walls. As she ran, she recounted the events that had ocurred just a week ago.

They had been fighting ever since Adriaan had spotted the droid army marching upon them in the dead of the night, seven days from today. Kay Lee well remembered that first day; how Adriaan had shook her awake, telling her urgently to get up and get ready to fight. Kay Lee had wanted to sleep for a few more hours, but nevertheless, she had to obey the Commander. It wasn't until that afternoon when she discovered that she had left camp with her tunic on backwards and her leggings on inside out, and she had forgotten her utility belt as well. She had been so groggy that she could barely function.

Andre had treated the whole battle as a joke ––– laughing and dancing around droids, lazily chopping them into little pieces, screaming "wicked" and "Die, GOOD droids" with his new friends –––– he had even snacked on muja fruit dipped in chocolate sauce as they attempted to scale the city walls. Only Andre and the Wicked Club seemed to think of this as fun; everyone else did not see the joke in the matter. Outnumbered at about sixty to one, the clone army was having a hard time even reaching the outer defenses. Once there, however, the task seemed even more impossible ––– heavy artillery lined up along the walls, ion cannons stationed on the defenses, droids that kept on getting replenished by a factory in the capital, and now mines all over the ground surrounding the city ––– it was heartbreaking. If only they had been able to execute Kay Lee's plan before the droids had attacked. Then they wouldn't be so hopelessly outnumbered.

Kay Lee's line of thought was interrupted as she heard the clatter of many droidekas wheeling toward them. _As if it couldn't possibly get worse, _she thought wearily, activating her lightsaber. Droidekas were no match for a Jedi, but they mowed down the clones as easily as cutting grass. The Jedi could not be everywhere at once to save them. Feeling exhausted and desperately in need of sleep, Kay Lee spoke into her wrist comlink. "Um, Adriaan, there's droidekas blocking off our escape in sector 27B."

"It's all right, Kay. I've got the AT-TE's marching into your sector. Just give them enough room to do the damage, okay?"

Good. Kay Lee had been afraid that Adriaan would command her to take out the whole squad of destroyers. Soon she felt the vibrations of something heavy marching toward her, and she knew that the AT-TE's were approaching. Just then a droideka uncoiled itself, turned on its defensive shield, and began to fire powerful blasts from its dual cannons. Kay Lee rolled and rolled, avoiding the deadly fire as she deflected the blasts from the regular battle droids. She hit the dirt and rolled for the droideka, intending to disarm the shield generator so that the droid could be taken out.

_BAM!_

Kay Lee stood up in surprise. The droideka was gone. The AT-TE's were too far away to be doing much damage yet. Who had destroyed the droid? Suddenly, she heard a spine-chilling scream as several small figures seemingly rained down from of the sky and began to cut down the battle droids.

"WICKED!"

Kay Lee groaned. Poor Adriaan. Anyone had to admire that girl for tolerating the Wicked Club. That club defied logic. They made absolutely no sense. And they were changing the already annoying Andre into a ruthless monster.

"Out of my way you GOOD." Kay Lee was roughly shoved aside by a dark haired youth with pale skin and beady blue eyes. She frowned and took care to tread on his toes as she stormed past. Their insolence was unbelievable; Kay would not have been surprised if she saw them talking back to Chancellor Palpatine himself. They were all so terrible, Kay Lee couldn't decide who was the worst: the flea-ridden Kien, the idiot cousins, the grouchy Minir, the pest Andre, or Aedan, the Wicked King.

She watched silently as the club methodically and thoroughly began destroying the droidekas. She tapped her wrist comlink and spoke into it again. "I don't think we'll be needing those AT-TE's, Commander," she said to Adriaan.

"What? What is it? What's wrong?"

"The Wicked Club got here first."

There was something between a groan and a stifled exclamation on the other line. "Okay, I'm glad that at least they're putting their talents to a good use," Adriaan said finally. "Why aren't you withdrawing from the sector, Commander Lee? I thought I gave you the command to retreat! Do you want to be blasted out of the sky?"

"Um, no."

"Then get out of there now! Call back the Wicked Club to sector 5! A particle beam is targeting them!"

"Guys!" Kay Lee roared. "Get out before you get pulverized!"

"By what, GOOD?" Andre asked, looking around.

"Don't listen to _her, _WICKED Andre," Kien said. "We're WICKED, remember? And what do WICKEDS do, cousins?"

Jahn Pal and Sai'wer looked around. "Run and hide."

"No, GOODS!" Minir screamed. "The correctly WICKED answer is that WICKEDS don't listen to GOODS! Is that WICKEDLY clear?"

"No," Sai'wer said.

"Yes," Jahn Pal said at the same time.

"Look!" Kay Lee shouted, pointing to a cannon on the wall. It was swiveling slowly as it followed Aedan's antics. "It's going to fire if you don't get out soon!"

They just ignored her.

Kay Lee grabbed the closest boy to her and began shaking him. "Get out of here now you idiot or I'll have to sweep up your remains in a dustpan! MOVE!"

Just then the cannon fired a blast of energy toward Aedan.

"No!" Kay Lee shouted in disbelief.

Aedan didn't even seem to notice the hot wave of energy zooming toward him. He was calmly adjusting the strap on his boot, as if he hadn't a care in the world. Kay Lee was too far away to reach him in time, but she ran in his direction anyway, shouting at him to run. Aedan had just microseconds to live.

Suddenly something very strange happened. Aedan stood up, faced the oncoming missile, and watched calmly as it bounced off his body and zipped back to the cannon. There was a far off _boom, _and a brief red and orange dot lit up on the walls, then faded. Aedan drew one long sigh, wiped the sweat from his face, and smirked through the layer of grime on his skin.

"Well, do you have anything to say?" he asked Kay Lee calmly.

Her mouth hung agape, stunned at what had just happened. _No, it couldn't have happened. I dreamed it, _she thought as she began jogging with the retreating clones. But she knew that it was no dream. It had really happened. Aedan, a small, nine-year old student who most likely missed more classes than he attended, watched passively as a particle beam came for him, then at the last microsecond, Force-pushed it back into the cannon without using a single hand gesture. It was unnerving; Kay Lee had seen few Masters able to accomplish such a feat.

_If only he wasn't so insane, _she thought, _then he might be the greatest Jedi ever._

Now it was beginning to make sense to Kay Lee why the Council kept the Wicked Club. They had to; without Jedi rules to restrain them, the Wicked Club was capable of destroying planets. But perhaps they were also allowed to remain as Jedi students because of their raw talent. Maybe the Council hoped that Adriaan would break their wicked habits and mold them into something beneficial.

_As great as Adriaan is, I doubt that she will succeed._

_*****_

Adriaan was conferring with the clone Urak when Kay Lee finally made it back to sector 5. Adriaan glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, but other than that did not acknowledge her presence. Kay Lee fidgeted impatiently as the Commander spoke a few more words to her clone underling, then dismissed him with a wave of her hand. The clone stalked off to fulfill his duties, and Adriaan turned her full attention to Kay Lee.

"You did not leave the sector immediately, like I commanded you to." Her voice was icy.

"I am sorry, Adriaan, er, Commander –––" Kay Lee began. She wasn't used to speaking in formal military; it felt awkward saying, "Yes, Commander" "Copy, sir." She just wasn't used to it yet.

Adriaan's frosty expression melted as her lips broke into a grin. "Just call me Adriaan; I think talking like that feels weird, too."

_How did she read my mind? _Kay Lee wondered, _am I really that shallow?_

"You are probably wondering what we are going to do, now that we have retreated," Adriaan said.

"Yes," Kay Lee said. "Why did you pull back your troops? I thought we were doing great."

The Knight winced. "Unfortunately, we weren't doing good enough. I can't afford to sacrifice my clones' lives just to get over the walls. There are not enough of us to take back the city by brute force. We must switch to sneakier but more effective tactics."

"Like?"

"Like finally attempting what we were planning to do a week ago ––– bombing the droid factory in the city."

"But they'll be expecting that from us," Kay Lee argued. "We would be crazy if we attempted that now."

"You were the one who had the idea," Adriaan said. "Remember?"

"Yes, but now that I think on it, I suppose that it was too risky."

"Yes, it is too risky," Adriaan agreed. "But in times of war, one must take risks."

Kay Lee took a deep breath. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Well, you have a choice: to come with me to blow the droid cache up, with a highly probable chance of blowing yourself up in the process, if you don't get captured or blasted out of the sky by droidekas first. Or –––"

"Or?" Kay Lee asked breathlessly.

Adriaan smirked. "You can stay with the troops and keep an eye on the Wicked Club for me."

"I'm coming with you," Kay Lee said quickly.

"Okay then." Adriaan began walking quickly toward two swoops parked nearby. "I shall have to take another risk and temporarily let Aedan take command of the troops. He's crazy, but he has a sharp mind and an eye for strategy. I think we'll find all the clones alive if we make it back."

"_If _we make it back," Kay Lee said dubiously.

"We will make it back," Adriaan said confidently. "We have to."


	24. Capture!

**chapter 24**

Two hours later, a soaked, bedraggled, tired Kay Lee was crouching in a small space between two buildings, watching Adriaan watch the street. The Jedi was almost lying flat on the ground, arms and legs splayed like a spider's. If she wasn't in such an uncomfortable position, Kay Lee would have thought that she had fallen asleep, ––– she was so still. They had crawled through millions of underground tunnels that were covered with slime and mud and something squishy that smelled totally gross, until they had climbed out of the man hole into this narrow alley. In the past fifteen minutes of watching the main street, Kay Lee had come to a decision: she would never, ever, ever, crawl through a sewage tunnel again, even if her very life depended upon it. She had never felt in more need of a bacta bath in her life.

Adriaan raised one hand upward and waved impatiently for her. Kay Lee crept closer to the street and looked at the Jedi Knight inquiringly.

"The guard posted around the droid factory is light," Adriaan commented, smiling grimly. "Evidently they are not expecting us."

Kay Lee grinned.

"Do you have the charges?" Adriaan asked softly.

She gave a thumbs up sign, fingering the round, spherical shapes of the mega alpha charges hidden in the folds of her robe. She still thought that Adriaan was crazy for thinking these small detonators would blow up an entire building, but the girl had seemed to think it important that they bring them along.

"On five, get ready to run," Adriaan whispered. She held up her right hand, the hand with the black tattoo curving from her palm up her forearm, like a winding snake. She held up one finger. _One._

_ Two._

_ Three._

_ Four._

_ Five!_

Kay Lee raced across the open area, the adrenalin pumping through her body as she skidded to a stop at the corner and glanced furtively around. Adriaan, seeing that her friend was safely across, began sprinting across the empty street, her head and arms down low, so that it looked more like she was crawling than running. Still, Kay Lee was surprised at how fast she could move in such an awkward position.

Adriaan suddenly appeared beside her, breathing softly. An involuntary shiver went down Kay Lee's spine; she still wasn't used to the dark Jedi's creepy, inhuman powers. Adriaan never seemed to get tired.

"Come," Adriaan whispered, and Kay Lee looked around, astounded to see that Adriaan had reappeared in front of her, and was flitting in and out of the shadows, making her way towards the entrance. That girl was a ghost ––– silent, swift, and invisible. Kay Lee was glad that Adriaan had decided to be a Jedi, and not an assassin. With unnatural talents like that, she could easily become one of the most feared and admired bounty hunters in the galaxy.

A white hand shot out from the inky blackness and pulled her back into the shadows. Kay Lee pushed down the scream that rose from the pit of her stomach and forced her racing heart to calm down. It was only Adriaan. "Don't walk out into the open like that," Adriaan hissed. "We have to do this inconspicuously, or we're all going to die."

Kay Lee nodded, her face red. She knew that, of course, but she hadn't been paying enough attention to see that she was about to walk out into the open. Now she had made herself look like a fool in front of a Jedi Knight. "Sorry," she murmured. "I just have a hard time concentrating when I have to do something boring."

Adriaan smiled grimly. "Well, you'd better be paying more attention in the future. This is a dangerously boring mission, you see? It may seem like nothing's happening, but the minute you put your foot out too far ––– the minute you take your mind off it ––– you will die _immediately_. Is that understood?"

Kay Lee nodded, still feeling slightly irritated at her lack of concentration.

"Good. Now…" the girl's gaze traveled upwards, towards the top of the building, as if measuring how high the jump would have to be. "Infrared sensors," she murmured. "Motion detectors, a BG-2 alarm system…yes, the front door would be a better way."

"Better how?" Kay Lee asked, squinting in the direction Adriaan was looking.

"I'm saying that it would be easier if we just walked in through the front door instead of jumping all those sensors."

_She's insane, _Kay Lee thought. "But there are the guards, and the security checkpoints…"

Adriaan waved her hand in dismissal. "Less risky than trying the roof. People expect the saboteur to enter from the top ––– who ever heard of a saboteur crazy enough to enter through the front door?"

She had a point, but the guards still worried Kay. "We'll have a better chance of getting away if we're seen on the roof…"

"If we get caught, there will be no escape," Adriaan said grimly.

Kay Lee couldn't think of a comeback for that one. Defeated, she turned away. _I bet she's just too proud to admit that she doesn't know how to get past the security on the roof, _she thought.

"And by the way, I could _easily _breach those ridiculous security systems," Adriaan said, as if she heard Kay Lee's thought. "We're going to go through the front door because you…well, it will just be easier."

_She was going to say that it would be easier for ME, _Kay realized. Anger boiled up from inside her. _That's not fair for her to think that! I'm better than she thinks I am! I'll show her!_

_ "Calm down, Kay Lee, calm down," _she heard her Master say.

_She's not being fair, Master._

_ "Perhaps she is, and perhaps she isn't. Maybe she doesn't realize that she's not being fair. Maybe she's chosen the easier way because she feels responsible for you, and doesn't want to see you killed."_

_ But you chose the easier strategy, Master, and you died. The easiest way is not always the safest._

This time, there was no answer. Her heart throbbed painfully, as if trying to fill up the emptiness with a dull ache. She would never have the guidance of Master Okiwa again; she would no longer hear her silvery laughter, or see her hazel eyes brimming with amusement over some joke that Kay Lee had made. She would never come back; she had been reduced to the form of a voice that occasionally gave advice but otherwise remained silent.

"I'm sorry, Kay," Adriaan whispered. "But you have to understand. I have an Apprentice back in the isolation sector, because he became sick last week. I've been feeling very paranoid lately, and, well, I think you're a pretty cool kid. I would hate for anything to happen to you."

"I'm sixteen ––– not a kid," Kay Lee said, slightly indignant. "But I have to agree with you about being pretty cool."

"Hey, I'm sixteen, too," Adriaan said, dropping her guarded tone. "We're the same age."

"You're _sixteen_?" Kay Lee asked in shock.

Adriaan grinned. "What? Do I look so much like an old woman?"

"No, it's just that –––"

"That I'm a little too young to be a Jedi Knight?" she asked, smiling sideways. "Hey, I'm not offended ––– I really am way too young to be a Knight yet. I guess I am just a kid with unnatural Force abilities, but the Jedi Council apparently thought I was more than that. So _swoosh! _They chopped off my cute little Padawan braid, and there I was, the first kid Jedi." She paused, peeking around the corner. "Well, here's the front gate. Ready to go?"

Kay Lee nodded, the pit of her stomach fluttering nervously.

"Okay. Just leave this to me; I've done this a zillion times, and trust me, it'll be a piece of cake if you just do one thing for me."

"What do you want me to do?" Kay Lee asked, expecting Adriaan to ask her to defeat an army of droids.

Adriaan's request was surprising. "Give me the charges and the lightsaber and just follow my lead."

"What?"

"You will see." After she had been given the weapons, she stepped out into the sunlight and began to boldly stride toward the entrance. Kay Lee followed cautiously, not trusting her fellow Jedi's sanity.

"Halt." A metallic voice commanded. A droid sentry had approached, followed by about ten other droids, who stood blocking the gate.

Adriaan feigned a look of shock. "Halt? How dare you to think that you have the authority to command me!" she said in a high voice.

The droid remained stolid. "Identification, please," it said, raising its blaster rifle.

"Surely the Separatist ally, Queen Hyrax of Zylxx, does not need ID docs to examine her own droid factory," Adriaan said haughtily.

The droid stepped back and lowered its blaster rifle in respect. "No one without authorization by General Hai'ki may enter the droid factory under any conditions," it said.

"Oh really? Were you not informed that intruders were spotted inside the factory recently? I have come just to make sure that nothing has been damaged. You have obviously not been doing your job properly. Perhaps I should report your number to Hai'ki…"

"Nothing has been damaged," the droid said coldly.

"Nevertheless, it is my duty to routinely check the well-being of my factory," Adriaan said. "Please stand aside, or I'll report you as faulty and you'll be sent to the smelters."

Apparently, the threat had an affect on the mindless sentries, for they stood aside and allowed her to walk through.

Kay Lee let out the breath she had been holding and hurried after Adriaan's swiftly retreating figure.

"Halt!"

She stopped, a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead. This was it; they were caught. Mission failed. Any moment now, the droids were going to fire…

Adriaan turned and tapped her foot impatiently at the droid. "Well, what now? Do you want me to report you to General Hai'ki after all?"

"Children are not permitted to go inside the factory," the droid announced, pointing its weapon at Kay Lee.

"Um, _excuse me, _but that is my handmaiden you are referring to. I cannot go anywhere without her," Adriaan said icily.

The droid lowered its weapon reluctantly. "Very well," it rasped. "But she must undergo a security check before entering."

Adriaan cut off Kay Lee's protest. "Fine," she said to the droid. "Just let them search you," she said out of the side of her mouth to Kay Lee. "You'll be all right. Remember, I have all the weapons." She patted her tunic pocket and grinned.

_Okay, how the heck did she know that the guards would want to search me? No wonder she asked for all the weapons ––– she was planning to get through without going through security, so the sensors would not be able to detect the charges. What a genius._

The droids finished frisking her and stepped aside to let her pass. Smiling triumphantly, the girls practically ran through the sliding doors and stood in the droid factory, panting.

"You…are a…gen…ius," Kay Lee managed to gasp out.

"I know," Adriaan said, recovering quickly. She tossed Kay Lee the thermals and her lightsaber. "Here you go, kid. Let's go."

"As I think I mentioned before, I'm sixteen," Kay Lee corrected.

"So old," Adriaan remarked sarcastically.

"But _you _are sixteen!" Kay Lee pointed out, exasperated.

"Yes," Adriaan answered, striding down the corridor. "And I am also a kid. Come on, we don't have all day."

Kay gritted her teeth and followed. She had a bad feeling that she was doing something totally insane, following a crazy kid Jedi into the middle of enemy territory, but what else could she do? Stand outside the city walls and chop down the droids as fast as they were made in the factory?

Adriaan came to a stop in the hallway, contemplating. "If my memory of droid factory blueprints is correct, the weapons cache is probably stored in the lower levels," she said, beginning to stride quickly toward the turbolift. "Let's go check it out."

She stepped inside the turbolift, and Adriaan punched in a few numbers. Kay Lee watched the floor numbers whiz by as they whooshed downward. Kay Lee's plan was based on finding the most highly volatile equipment in the factory and planting charges there so that the thermals would start a chain reaction that would blow up the entire building. They had decided early on that they would try the weapons cache, which was certain to be packed with explosive equipment.

The turbolift door opened, and they stepped out. Kay Lee's ears were immediately assaulted by a loud clanking sound of metal working metal. Adriaan had told her that after the Seps had captured the city, they had set up this prefabricated factory, so that they could create enough droids to take over the entire system. That was why they were losing the battle; no matter how fast and how many droids they took out, they were immediately replaced by droids from the factory. The factory was the key element to the battle. Once it was taken out, they shouldn't have a problem defeating the rest of the army. The droids relied more on numbers and firepower than strategy and skill to win battles.

Adriaan barely glanced around. "It's not on this level. Let's go," she said.

"How do you know?" Kay Lee wondered aloud.

Adriaan looked at her mildly. "I just do."

They got off at the next level. This time, they were in a hallway with transparisteel walls, so that they could see the droids being built. Kay Lee watched queasily as the millions of droid parts rolled by on the assembly line. There were so many ––– it made their mission look even more hopeless. There was a strange humming noise in the background that was giving her a headache. "Can we go now?" she asked Adriaan.

The Jedi looked around, her sharp eyes piercing the shadows. She bent down to the ground and pressed her hand to the floor. She closed her eyes. "It's the next level. Come on."

Fifteen seconds later, they were standing in a room piled high with weapons and machinery. Adriaan took a quick look around and started for one of the doors leading to adjoining storage chambers. "According to the blueprints I studied at the Temple, the factory should have an area where they keep the fuel for their vehicles. That would be the perfect place to plant the charges, don't you think?"

"Sure," Kay murmured.

Adriaan placed her flat palm against the door and cocked her head, as if listening. After a few minutes, she accessed the door. "This one."

She was right again. As they weaved in and out among the fuel bins, servotool compartments, and partially assembled vehicles, Kay watched the slight girl in front of her. Adriaan looked so normal, so inconspicuous, in her plain black robes and battered utility belt. No matter what Master ell Talaan said, Kay Lee knew that the Council had made the right decision when they made her a Jedi Knight so early. She was so powerful, so in tune with the Force, that she almost had no need of training. To use the Force was an innate behavior; something she knew from birth, from instinct.

"How did you do that?" Kay Lee asked as Adriaan began to stack bins of fuel using the Force to lift the one thousand, eight hundred and fourteen kilogram barrels.

"This?" Adriaan asked, poising one container in midair.

"No, I mean how are you able to tell what is inside a room by placing your hand on the door?"

"Instinct," Adriaan said simply, stacking the last barrel. Gesturing toward Kay Lee, she stepped toward the stacks. "Charges, please."

Kay Lee used the Force to withdraw the round detonators from her pocket. She tossed a few to Adriaan and began setting the detonators. "Should I set them to go off in half an hour? That should give us plenty of time to get out –––"

"No, they might be found and disabled if we wait that long. Set them to go off in three minutes."

"_Three _minutes? How are we going to get out in time?"

Adriaan juggled four charges in one hand as she set one and placed it beside the fuel barrels. "We run."

"You're a showoff," Kay remarked.

"No, I just like to find the harder, more complicated solutions," Adriaan answered lightly, planting the last charge. "Wow, you've been _sooo _productive and efficient, setting all of your detonators."

Kay Lee felt her cheeks redden when she realized that she was still holding all of her thermals, idly watching Adriaan work. She quickly set three of her detonators and placed them close to the fuel canisters. "You're also very sarcastic, you know."

The other girl rolled her eyes. "_Sure._"

Kay Lee set the last charge and stood up. Adriaan grinned and took off, sprinting for the turbolift. She skidded into the lift and punched in the number for the ground floor just as Kay Lee slid into the space with her, her boots squealing as they rubbed the surface of the tiled floor. The doors opened, and both of them flew out and smacked right into the wall. Kay Lee pushed herself away and was about to run for the doors, when Adriaan stopped her. "Wait," she said softly.

"Wait?!" Kay Lee was incredulous. "Do you seriously want us to stay inside an imploding building?"

"This building is far from imploding," Adriaan said.

"What?!" Just then there was a terrific _boom, _and the Jedi felt themselves being lifted into the air and being smashed back into the floor. The first explosion was followed by another, and another, and then everything fell into silence.

Adriaan sat back on her heels. "We're going to need a CIS dropship."

"For what?" Kay asked, feeling tired and defeated.

"Well, as you can see, that explosion wasn't big enough to blow up the entire building. Since we have no thermals left, it might be easier if we just bombed the whole complex. So here's what I'm thinking we should do. I'll call the Wicked idiots and get them to take a few gunships out here. That should keep the droids occupied while me and you _borrow _one of their dropships. Then we can all fly over the factory and blast it into little bits. What do you think?"

"Do you know where they keep their starfighters? I'm not really up to wandering around this droid-infested city looking for their docking bay."

"It's right here, in the factory," Adriaan said. "Did you see all the partially assembled starships and vehicles in that room down there? Where do you think they store them all when they're put together? Somewhere on the upper levels, most likely. If you don't believe me, why don't you just walk up to a droid and ask it directions to the hangar bay? And if it asks what business you have with the hangar bay, politely explain that you're going to steal one of the CIS ships and bomb the whole factory. I have no doubt that the droid will be very happy to give you directions once your purpose is explained –––"

"Okay, okay," Kay Lee said, grinning. "I'll take your word for it. Which way do we go?"

"First, we need to get out of this hallway. Security is going to be pouring in here any second. This place is about to go into lockdown, and I don't want to be caught like a womp rat in a garbage can." She threw her hood over her face and melted into the shadows, pulling Kay Lee after her. "Now, I can't use my comlink in here to contact Aedan because the signal might be picked up by the CIS. I will just have to contact him a better way." She closed her eyes, and Kay Lee felt the Force surge in answer to Adriaan's call.

Adriaan opened her eyes after a moment. "Okay; he's coming. Let's go."

"Are you sure he heard you?" Kay Lee asked, dubious of Aedan's understanding of the Force.

"Aedan may be the King of the bantha-brains," Adriaan said, "but he is an elite Jedi student for a reason. He heard me; I know he did, because he answered."

"What did he say?"

"He said, 'whatever, GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD…'"

Kay Lee covered her ears and groaned. "Ugh."

*****

"Yes, I want a heavy missile platform droid gunship," Adriaan repeated calmly to the droid sentry.

"You do not have the authorization to use CIS transports," the droid said for the millionth time. "Your request does not compute."

"That's the last time you're going to say that," Adriaan said, stepping forward.

"You're under arrest!" several of the droids snapped into battle mode and began firing at the intruders.

Instantly, the Jedi Knight's lightsaber had left her belt and was in her hand, deflecting the blaster bolts back at the Separatists. Adriaan executed a jump snap kick, then did a reverse out-to-in kick that sent two of her opponents flying. Kay Lee noticed that Master ell Talaan used her feet and body to fight as well as her lightsaber. Obviously, she had been trained in martial arts. Kay Lee knew a few moves, too ––– activating her own turquoise-colored blade, she chopped one droid in half as she did a back push kick into the control panel of an assailant. There were about ten droids to a Jedi, so it wasn't long before they had cleared the platform. Adriaan wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and jerked her chin toward a dropship parked nearby. "They'll be sending reinforcements soon; let's get out of here."

They came sooner than expected. As Kay Lee sprinted after Adriaan, she felt a blast of heat on her neck and the _ping _of blasterfire as it ricocheted off the walls just inches from her head. The energy bolts skittered across the floor in front of her, sending sparks flying at Adriaan's heels. A blast narrowly missed the Jedi's blond head as the girl ducked and bent low to the ground. They clambered up the ramp of one of the ships as fire clanked against the dull metal hull.

"This is awesome!" Adriaan shouted.

"Took the words right out of my mouth!" Kay Lee yelled back.

The girls slid into the cockpit seats; Adriaan grabbed the pilot controls and swiftly pressed a few buttons to override the security code. Kay Lee dove for the copilot seat and began searching for the weapon controls. She pulled a lever, and a pair of controls slid out. "Wrong ones," Adriaan said as she began to rapidly check all the systems. "The bomb and missile turret is down there." She jerked her head for a narrow ladder sliding down into a hole in the floor.

"Gotcha." Kay Lee jumped into the hole and slithered down the ladder. There was a chair and a set of controls enclosed within a small bubble-like space. Kay Lee strapped herself into the seat and switched on the tracking screen. "Kay Lee, are you in there?" a voice crackled from the dropship's internal speaker. Kay Lee leaned toward the console. "Yes!" she shouted. Just then the ship began to rock; there was a metallic clink of metal being hit repeatedly by something.

"They've brought out a E-60!" Adriaan yelled as the ship began to lift from the ground. "Hang on!"

Kay Lee looked at the tracking screen. Adriaan was right. They had set up a Merr-Sonn E-60R missile launcher, capable of ripping through a Republic walker's hull. It had to stop shooting them, or the dropship might be rendered incapable for the mission. She gripped the controls and swerved them so that the tracking reticule locked onto the object.

_BAM!_

"Got him!" Kay Lee crowed as the target shimmered and faded from the screen.

"Nice shot, Kay Lee," Adriaan called out. "If I was a Master, I'd promote you to a Knight!"

Kay Lee couldn't tell whether Adriaan was serious or merely joking around. She hoped that Adriaan meant it, though it was hard to tell ––– she could be so incredibly sarcastic that you couldn't tell whether she was being genuine or sardonic. "Thanks!" she yelled back finally.

The ship bounced and swayed erratically, and she began to feel worried that she wouldn't be able to man the guns properly if the ship was unstable. "We're in some heavy turbulence right now, but I think that once we begin to fly closer to the ground, it won't be so bumpy," Adriaan said. "Do you know where and when to fire?"

"Yes." Master ell Talaan had given her a crash course on the weakest points of the complex as they were trying to find the hangar bay. "Defense systems so that we won't be intercepted, then the hangar so they can't escape. And then…"

"Boom! We'll blast the generator!" Adriaan finished cheerfully. "I see that they're getting out their ion cannons. Gunner, are you ready?"

"Ready." Her heart was pounding in her throat from excitement.

"Missiles, deploy!"

She squeezed the joystick twice, taking a few seconds in between to fix on each target. There was the satisfactory _whiz _of the launched missiles, followed by two red balls of fire blooming up from the factory walls. "That did it! Okay, I'm coming around to the hangar…" Adriaan called out.

Kay Lee looked at the tracking screen and focused the tracking reticule on a flat object jutting out from the walls.

"Gunner, deploy bombs!"

"Bombs deployed," Kay Lee called back, jerking a controller backwards. She heard a slight _clink _as the hatch opened, and held her breath as she watched the target on the screen.

"One more," the Jedi was saying now, "this will be a little trickier. We'll have to blast the generator as I'm making the pass. Can you time your strike so that the missiles hit the generator when we're blasting outta here?"

"I think so," Kay Lee said, gripping the sweat-slicked controls tighter. "I _hope _so."

"Come on, it'll be a piece of cake. Just take it easy and fire when I tell you to. "

"Okay." Kay Lee watched tip-lipped as the image of the factory generator loomed closer.

"Deploy missiles."

Kay Lee pressed the button. "Missiles de –––"

"WICKED!" a strange, un-Adriaan-like voice popped into the frequency.

Suddenly, Kay was thrown against the console as the ship rocked forward. Her head whacked against the hard contours of the joystick, and as she licked her lip, she tasted something warm and metallic on her tongue. Blood. Through the dim, reddish haze, she thought she could hear someone repeatedly screaming "Wicked" and she could hear Adriaan yelling something about getting hit and having to crash land. There was a jarring thud, and she was thrown backwards. She winced as she heard the metal hull of the ship squealing against the concrete, and desperately hoped that they weren't on fire. Then the whole craft lurched, righted itself, and stopped. There was a moment of tense silence.

"Kay Lee?"

She slowly raised her head in answer to Adriaan's strange, disembodied voice. "I'm fine," she said weakly. "What hit us?"

"An idiotic bantha-brained _sleemo nek _pilot."

"Aedan." Kay Lee unstrapped herself and stood up. "And Andre."

Another, younger voice jumped into the conversation. "And Jahn Pal. We're great pilots. I think we hit a little birdy, huh, Sai'wer?"

"_I'm _Jahn Pal, Jahn Pal," Another voice said. "And yes, we did hit a little birdy. Where's Aedan?"

"Numbskulls! Idiots! Can't you watch where you GOODS are going?" A grumpy voice said. "You almost killed us all, Jahn Pal and Sai'wer!"

"No, it's Sai'wer and Jahn Pal," Sai'wer corrected.

"NO, it's Jahn Pal and Sai'wer," Jahn Pal mumbled.

"It's idiotic freaks!" Adriaan interrupted. "Now, will you please explain to me why my ship is down here, on the ground?"

"You landed it there, of course," Jahn Pal said.

"_Crash-_landed," Adriaan said. "Why did you run into me? Where are the others?"

"Up here," Andora said, suddenly entering into the conversation. "Sometime this afternoon, my twin heard the Force telling him to take a ship out here. We thought you would need our help, so we went in several ships; unfortunately, Aedan insisted on Jahn Pal and Sai'wer having a ship all to themselves, and they…ran into you, I'm afraid. Don't worry, they will be punished most severely once we get back to the Jedi Temple –––"

"Later, Andora," Adriaan said impatiently. "Tell me quickly; where are we right now?"

There was a brief silence on the other end. "I'm afraid that your ship is balanced on the roof of the factory; you are very close to the generator…"

Just then, Andora was interrupted by a crow of triumph from Aedan. "Touchdown! WICKED!" he screamed. "Mission accomplished!"

"Goo ––– I mean wicked for you, Aedan!" Adriaan exclaimed. "You are a very wicked Apprentice to listen so carefully to the Force. You will be elevated to the rank of a Padawan upon our return to –––"

"Oh, no ––– forgive me for interrupting you, Master, but Aedan has just blown apart the generator! The entire side of the building you are on is collapsing!" Andora yelled.

"Bye-bye, Adriaan," Aedan called. "Thanks for the WICKED promotion!"

"Idiot Aedan! Andora, fly your ship as close to the roof as you can! Kay Lee, eject from the ship immediately! I'll meet you outside!" Adriaan yelled as the ship started to tilt and slide off the wall.

Kay Lee scrambled out of the cockpit, grabbing the doorframe, which was now tilted so that it was facing the sky. She pushed herself through it and began to half-run, half-crawl to the ramp. She started to slide backwards as the ship flipped over onto its side as it fell through the air.

She leaped for the edge of the ramp and caught hold of it. Kicking at the floor so that she could push herself up, she crouched on the edge of the ramp, which was now sticking straight up into the air. Right after that was a sheer drop down to the city streets.

"Kay Lee jump!" she heard Adriaan shout from close behind. Swallowing her fear, she let go of the ledge and felt herself falling through space.

_This is the end, _she thought, _I'm falling to my death…_

Then she felt a strong hand grip her wrist. Adriaan pulled Kay Lee closer to her body and wrapped her arm underneath Kay's arms. With the other hand, she was fumbling for something in her utility belt. She withdrew a small liquid cable and aimed it for the heavens.

_What is she doing? Does she think that cable will attach to one of the clouds?_

Suddenly there was a _clink _as the cable whacked something metal. The cable was taut, so Adriaan pressed the recoil button. They began to ascend.

_Wow, I didn't know clouds were made of metal, _Kay Lee thought groggily, _how come they can float when I cannot…_

She shook herself. Stupid! Clouds weren't made of metal! It was a _ship_ that Adriaan had hooked onto. They weren't even high enough in the air to snag a cloud.

Adriaan threw herself onto the ramp of the ship at last, hauling Kay Lee after her. They lay on the smooth metal surface for a moment, recovering from their fall. A ship flew overhead, nearly clipping its wing as it zoomed by them. Adriaan struggled to a sitting position and crawled into the interior of the craft. Kay Lee followed wearily.

Andre was the first to greet them. "Hey, GOODS!" he shrieked, capering around them. "You lived? That's incredible! It's unbelievable! It's WICKED!"

"Yeah, great, awesome," Adriaan answered tersely. "Where can I find Andora?"

Andre looked puzzled. "You want to see _her?_" he asked, pointing toward the cockpit. "She's in there, but I wouldn't go in there if I was GOOD; she's not in a WICKED mood today. In fact, she never seems to be."

"Thanks for the warning," Kay Lee said. "Now scram!"

Andre pulled a hideous face and danced away, disappearing into the hold of the ship. The girls ducked into the cockpit.

Andora swiveled in her pilot chair and looked at them. "Master ell Talaan and Commander Lee," she said solemnly. "How good it is to see you both alive."

"And you too, Captain Kenobi," Adriaan returned half-mockingly, bowing.

"Pray do not bow to me, Master," Andora said, frowning.

"As you wish," Adriaan said, bowing again.

The girl's brows were drawn together in disapproval. For once, Kay Lee noticed, she wasn't wearing clean clothing, and her long hair was bound in a loose ponytail instead of the tight, whip-like braid she always wore. There were dark circles underneath her eyes, indicating a lack of sleep. But as Kay Lee looked around, she could see that they all looked like they needed sleep. She wondered how much longer they would all last.

"Master," Andora said now, "Commander Urak is trying to contact us. Should I put him on?"

"Certainly," Adriaan said. "I hope he has good news."

"Ahem." Minir and Andre shot her venomous looks.

"I hope he has _wicked _news," Adriaan repeated.

The young girl tapped a few keys, and a few seconds later, the clone commander shimmered and came into focus on the holocam.

"Commander ell Talaan, General Hai'ki of the Separatist army has officially surrendered," Urak reported.

"WICKED!" the kids shouted. Even Andora wore a grin on her face. At last, after a week of hard fighting, they finally won.

"So I suppose he is on his way to the camp to give himself up," Adriaan said.

"Actually, Commander, General Hai'ki said that he would like you to come into the capital, to discuss the surrender terms further…"

"He doesn't agree to the terms? Then just blow him up; that Separatist scum does not have the power to order us around," Adriaan retorted.

"The Separatist scum was also very particular that you should know that he knows the only way to kill Actin 3."

"So? I can just wring that information out of him once I get my hands around his scrawny neck."

"Unfortunately, even with the information, Commander, you still wouldn't have the proper materials to kill the virus. That is what Hai'ki told us, Commander."

"He could be bluffing," Adriaan grumbled. "Or he might not. No matter. We can just take apart the city brick by brick if necessary to find the anti-viral medicine."

"Commander, General Hai'ki also thought it important to inform you that the anti-viral medicine is stored in the hold of one of the ships in his fleet. That fleet is occupying the Kiyp asteroid belt, which is currently CIS territory."

"Shoot," Adriaan growled. "I wish I could shoot his brains out. Little womp weasel. His bait intrigues me ––– but it could be a trap."

"Could be," Urak said uncertainly.

"Traps are very interesting," Adriaan said. "There is supposedly only one way into a trap, but I have escaped too many to be fooled by that notion. Unless the dark lord of the sith is there himself, I doubt that I will have trouble getting out of there if it gets too hot. All right, I'll do it."

"Then we're coming with you, Master," Kay Lee and Andora said at the same time.

*****

When they landed outside the palace gate, Kay Lee felt a feeling of dread settle in her heart as the ship sank to the ground. The obsidian gates looking disturbingly like the jaws of a large beast ready to swallow them up. She shouldered her cape on and warily followed the others down the ramp and out onto the street.

A group of boys approached from the nearby gunships. "Hello, GOOD ladies and WICKED rough-men," Aedan said, raising his hand in greeting.

"Rough-men?" Kay Lee wondered.

"Don't ask," Adriaan said through clenched teeth. "He thinks gentlemen are weak and good."

"Well, they _are,_" Minir said, sticking out his chin.

"Say what you like, cheerful, happy comedian," Jahn Pal or Sai'wer said; Kay Lee couldn't tell them apart. "But me and my fellow genius know that gentlemen are WICKED."

"Idiot," Minir huffed.

"You mean 'idiots'" the other "genius" said. "Can you not distinguish singular from plural yet?"

"Well, put together, both of you GOODS have almost the same amount of brains as a single moron," Minir returned.

"Hoh hoh hoh! That's funny!" the cousins said merrily.

"Shut up," Adriaan hissed. "We are in a very serious situation."

"We noticed that, GOOD," Kien said.

"That's why we're acting crazily WICKED!" Andre piped up. "We're trying to make the atmosphere un-serious, duh. What are you, a chicken-rat?"

"Bok bok bokah!" the Wicked Club chorused.

"Hush, young insolents," Andora hissed. "The gates are opening."

It was true; the ebony doors were slowly revolving on their hinges. Standing just inside the courtyard, was a dark-cloaked figure.

"General Hai'ki?" Adriaan called out. "We have come to negotiate the terms of your surrender." She stepped toward the gates.

"Halt!" a strange, robotic voice rang in the street. "I have three snipers positioned at both ends of the courtyard, and two ion cannons have you targeted. They have orders to fire if you step into this courtyard armed."

"So what do you expect me to do? Hand my lightsaber to you?" Adriaan asked sarcastically. "No way."

"You may leave your weapons inside your ship; no one will attempt to steal it from you."

"Fine." Adriaan yanked off her utility belt and handed it to Andora, who began collecting them from the rest. Kay Lee gave over her reluctantly, not liking the idea of walking into enemy territory unarmed. _But I have the Force to help me…_

"Furthermore, you and all your company must give their word to not use your psychic powers to attack anyone; I'm not stupid enough to think a Jedi is harmless without his lightsaber."

"It's the Force; we don't have psychic powers," Adriaan corrected, sounding irritated. "We are simply servants to its will ––– we do not control it, or use it to attack anyone."

"Whatever ––– you may not use it to harm anyone, or your friends in Hÿÿ will have a very hard time."

"Understood."

Andora returned from storing their belongings inside their ship, and they walked through the yawning opening of the gate. As they walked down the courtyard, Kay Lee looked around apprehensively. About one hundred droids lined each of the three walls, and there were probably even more inside the palace. The creaking noise of the gates being closed had an ominous sound. This was beginning to feel more and more like a cage.

The figure they had seen inside the gate was a tall cyborg with a plain, featureless metal mask where its face used to be. Thick durasteel legs were planted firmly on the ground, and its burly robotic arms were folded sternly across its control panel. But by the translucent skin peeking out underneath its metallic sheath, Kay Lee could tell that this monster had once been a human.

"Well, out with it!" Adriaan said to Hai'ki. "How can we kill Actin 3 before it spreads to the whole planet?"

Hai'ki folded his arms. "All in good time; first, I want to negotiate a little deal with you…"

"We didn't come to waste time negotiating with someone we defeated," Adriaan said scathingly. "Do you want the virus to reach the city and wipe you out?"

"It will never reach the capital," the General said. "We have an anti-viral shield protecting us. We will do this slowly and diplomatically so that we can both come to a fair deal."

"I'm not going to hand over the planet to you," Adriaan spat. "That'd be just another form of killing Zylxx."

"Oh, no, I don't think I really care for control of this planet ––– I already have the Kiyp belt, and Zylxx is dependent on that asteroid field for its resources. You may have won the battle; but you will need control of the Kiyp belt if you are to keep your hold on Zylxx."

"So what do you want?"

Hai'ki unfolded his arms and made a hand gesture. The droids snapped into battle formation. "Since you have entered my territory, I feel that I am the one allowed to ask questions, and answer yours in my own time," he snapped. "Now, come with me into the audience chambers or I will have the droids fire!"

"Never!" the boys shouted, but Adriaan held up her hand.

"No, there is no need for them to fire," she said in a strange, far-off voice. "We will come."

"What?!" Aedan shouted in disbelief.

"GOOD!" Andre yelled.

"Will we get meals?" the cousins wondered.

"Can my fleas come, too?" Kien asked.

"Humph!" Minir said.

The General smiled. "Good. I knew that you had enough intelligence to accept my offer. Come. Guard them," he said aside to the droids.

"Roger roger," they answered, pointing their blaster rifles at the Jedi.

They began to march down the courtyard, toward the palace doors. Hai'ki went first, followed by the Wicked Club, who seemed intent on stomping on the General's black cape. Andora was right behind the boys, her face grimly set. Kay Lee was only a few steps behind her. Adriaan brought up the rear.

Adriaan was walking faster than the others, so it wasn't long before she was marching in lockstep with Kay Lee. "Andora, Kay; on three," she murmured.

"No talking!" the droid captain snapped, poking the barrel of its rifle into the small of Adriaan's back.

Adriaan managed to grin at Kay Lee. She held up one finger, then two.

"Three!" she shouted, doing a split kick into two droids marching behind her. Everyone dove to the floor as blaster fire erupted from the lines of droids. Kay and Andora dropped to the ground and began rolling for the gate. The Wicked Club sat up and cheered.

"WICKED!"

Adriaan spread her feet so that they were planted firmly in a horse stance, and began blocking the blasterfire by deflecting it with her hands.

"Liar!" Hai'ki shouted. "You gave your word not to use the Force!"

"I agreed to not use it to _harm _anyone," Adriaan said, deflecting the energy bolts so that they bounced against the walls. She was being careful not to deflect any back at the droids, Kay Lee saw. She was being a Jedi by keeping her promise, even though Hai'ki had broken his.

"Wicked Club take Action K36 058WICKED!" Adriaan yelled as the droids began to make a circle around them.

"WICKED!" the boys shouted, leaping to their feet and joining her in deflecting the bolts into the walls.

Kay and Andora began running for the gate, only to be stopped by a line of droidekas wheeling toward them. "Adriaan! Help!" Kay Lee shouted as they hit the ground. Adriaan leaped from the circle of battle droids and stood in front of the droidekas. A destroyer sent a deadly blast toward her, but she dodged it. She lifted up both hands, and the droidekas began to levitate. As everyone watched, astounded, she directed the floating droids outside the palace walls. She dropped her hands slowly, and the destroyers dipped over the wall and were lost to sight.

"Run, Kay Lee! Just get out of here!" Adriaan yelled as the droids started to fire again.

"But the gate!" Andora shouted, ducking as an energy bolt whizzed for her head.

Adriaan stopped, swerved, kicked, jabbed a droid's control panel with her fist, used the momentum to propel herself forward, and skidded to a stop a few meters from the gate. She drew her arms back and threw them forward, and the Force surged. The gates began to slide open.

"Get out! Get to Urak! Just go!" Adriaan yelled.

"Yeah, GOOD, go!" Kien and Andre screamed.

Andora and Kay Lee squeezed through the narrow crack between the gates, but Kay Lee turned around and looked back. "Adriaan, how are you going to get out?"

"There is always a way out of a trap!" Adriaan shouted, spreading her arms out to create a Force bubble that protected her and the boys from the deadly blasts. "Run before you get killed!"

Kay Lee turned around, feeling sick at heart. They were all so brave, staying as prisoners of their own free will. They had to stay, or Hai'ki would let everyone in Hÿÿ die. "May the Force be with you," she murmured.

She ran onto the ship, where she found Andora completing the preflight check. She and Andora had to do something. They had been given a chance to escape, and they had taken it; but how could they use their freedom to save Zylxx? They were just two Jedi students in a sea of enemies –––– what could they possibly do to save the planet from destruction?

_We've got to find a cure for Actin 3. Adriaan said that there is sometimes more than one way out of a trap. What if there is more than one way to kill Actin 3?_

The CIS had control of all the cities except for one: the isolation sector. _But that's madness, _Kay Lee thought, _I'd be suicidal to risk going in there to find information._

But was there any other way?


	25. The Fourth Shift

**chapter 25**

They were lucky that Klamin hadn't been super mad. He had just sort of laughed at their inquisitiveness, and told them that they should be spending their time more productively. So he had sent them out onto the streets to give what comfort they could to the sick, and to ease the dying. But there really wasn't much that they could do, except pray that the virus would die off on its own.

Kan hadn't realized until now how narrowly he had escaped death. About half the population was dying, and almost everyone had some case of Actin 3. He had never seen anything like it ––– the symptoms during the first stage started out with extreme fatigue. But that didn't last long ––– there were many cases when the paralysis and appearance of pustules appeared immediately. The story was the same everywhere they went ––– the person got tired, went home to get some rest ––– family finds him next morning unable to move, with itchy vesicles all over his skin. Or even worse, not even alive. Death was imminent; patients could die within a week, or even in a day. It was a fast-working virus that struck in many places, so it had been hard to find a medicine that would efficiently get rid of both the paralysis and the vesicles. It was heartbreaking to see so many people so sick and beyond help.

They met at noon in Cloud Square. It was crowded on a regular day, but like everything else, it was empty, forlorn, devoid of life.

"Hey, ol' WICKED!" Terry greeted Kan as he leaned against the rim of the fountain that stood in the middle of the square.

"What's up?" Na'thin asked. "You look GOOD."

"I'm just depressed." Kan sank to his knees at the edge of the fountain and looked down at the water. The fountain had stopped running weeks ago, and its contents were dark green and stagnant. Kan winced and turned his face away from the contaminated liquid. "I didn't know it was this bad."

"Well, when working with the CIS, WICKED, you learn that they're always up to no WICKED," Heatrian said, slapping his fist on the water so that the liquid hissed from the heat of his hand and rose in clouds of steam.

"And we're always up to no GOOD," Terry added, picking his nose.

"Hah hah, WICKED one, WICKED Terry," Na'thin said.

"I wish we could've found something info on Actin 3 before Klamin caught us snooping," Kan said gloomily.

"Hey, we did our WICKEDEST," Na'thin said.

"Yeah ––– we at least found out that GOOD ol' Klamin likes secret entrances to catacombs," Terry said.

"Wow, what useful information," Heatrian remarked sarcastically. "But perhaps we _did_ find everything that was WICKEDLY possibly to find."

"What do you mean?" Kan asked.

"By the way, what did you GOODLY mean by sneaking around in my Master's office in the first place? You must have WICKEDLY suspected something GOOD to attempt that."

"Well, if you want to know, I've been having this nagging suspicion that Klamin has something to hide. I mean, come on: high-tech security guarding his office, banning people from so much as stepping foot inside there ––– you can't tell me Klamin isn't a mystery."

"Yes, I WICKEDLY can," Heatrian said. "My Master is not himself a mystery; he is one of the loudest people I know. But I admit, something _about _him is a WICKED mystery, even to me, his serva –––"

"Why are you calling him 'My Master' and yourself 'his servant'?" Terry interrupted. "Last time I checked, a WICKED never calls _anyone _other than the Wicked King 'Master'"

"Ah, well, he has taught me many things of the WICKED world," Heatrian replied. "He deserves his WICKED title."

_He's looking uncomfortable again, _Kan thought. "So what did you mean when you said we found everything there was to find?"

"Well, I don't see why you were sitting there GOODLY complaining about not finding anything, because I think we _did _find something."

"We found a secret chamber that sent chills up my spine," Kan said. "What good is in finding something like that?"

"I wasn't GOODLY talking about that worthless find," Heatrian replied. "I am referring to the WICKED datachip that you wanted me to leave behind when we were trying to WICKEDLY escape."

"Yeah, and because you _had _to have that useless datachip, we got caught, and we won't have another chance to search," Kan said irritably. "What was on the datachip? The Naboo Aquahawks' season standings?"

"That would be WICKED!" Na'thin and Terry screamed. "Go Aquahawks! Down with the GOOD Coruscanti Storms! They suck!"

"Unfortunately, no," Heatrian said. "Klamin isn't into laserball."

"GOOD!" the boys shouted.

"No, WICKED, because I have all of Klamin's computer data stored on this chip."

"You have _what?!" _Kan snatched the datachip Heatrian was holding and plugged it into his comlink. "This is amazing! You're a genius, Heatrian! Thank you for not listening to me and grabbing that datachip when I told you not to! I am in your debt!"

"Um, sure," Heatrian said, looking confused. "Any time, ol' WICKED."

But when Kan opened the first file, his spirits fell. "Hey, this is garbage!"

"Hmm, I didn't know Klamin was GOOD enough to save garbage files on his computer…"

"No, you idiotic heap of liquified rock, the files were transferred incorrectly, so the codes are all garbled…what the heck did you do?"

"I was only trying to WICKEDLY help," the Pyronite said, folding his arms huffily. "And don't call a Pyronite a pile of liquified rock ––– some of us can get very touchy about being called that GOOD name."

"I'm sorry, but I have a right to be upset! Some of these files were transferred from Epi'do's computer."

"_Epi'do's _computer? Now _that_ is WICKEDLY interesting," Heatrian said, peering at the files. "But how do you know that?"

"Right here." Kan pointed at one of the file names. It was titled _Epi'do's Junk Mail. _"Why would he have Epi'do's junk mail on his computer?"

"Because he's GOOD and nosy," Terry said.

"I think he had WICKED suspicions, and he broke into GOOD Epi'do's office, like we WICKEDLY broke into his," Heatrian said. "I know that he never trusted that GOOD man, but I didn't think he'd go this far…"

"So what should we do?" Na'thin asked.

"Our shift is over in five minutes; the fourth shift will come in and take over the rounds soon," Heatrian said. "We have time to do some WICKED undercover work until we're on duty again, which is going to be in approximately five hours."

"Way more than enough time," Kan said. "But we have a problem ––– Klamin will be on break at the same time as we are. It'll be hard to give him the slip."

"He'll be watching us like a WICKED Aquahawk watches a tasty fish," Terry agreed.

"We'll have to get past him somehow," Kan said. "Heatrian ––– think you can distract him?"

The Pyronite's skin flushed. "Distract Klamin? Please ––– WICKEDLY easy as eating a rock."

"That's the fourth shift," Kan said, leaping to his feet as guards began marching down the street. "Let's go."


	26. Questions and Answers

**chapter 26**

He stepped quietly into the Queen's chamber and tiptoed toward the large, white bed overhung with sheer, rose-colored curtains. "How is she?" Klamin murmured to a Nebula standing guard by the door.

"She has worsened over the night; he fears she will not live much longer," the guard replied, nodding toward a field medic, who sat deep in thought beside the bed. "She isn't responding to anything."

Klamin and the guard exchanged glances. Neither of them said anything. The Queen had not taken it well when she heard that nearly all of her bodyguard, including her favorite, Epi'do, had fled from the city once they had realized a virus was spreading. When she had become infected with Actin 3, she hadn't tried to fight it ––– she had just quietly lain down in her bed, and had not moved since then. Only a handful of guards and palace staff had remained loyal to their Queen, and stayed to care for her, despite running the risk of infection.

He knelt down at the foot of the couch and rested his hand upon the linen coverlet. The Nebula had been right ––– she was doing worse than she had been yesterday. Her usually robust pink skin had faded to a pale, pasty white color, and her hands had a translucent look. Her face was thin and haggard –––– her lips had swollen pustules that oozed. This was not the fancy Queen that had greeted the Jedi ambassadors two weeks ago. This was a very sick little girl ––– and now she was dying.

"Hyrax," he breathed close to her ear. There was no movement; no response to his call. She no longer had the ability to cry out in her torment. It was a pitiful sight. She lay still, silent, cold as death.

Her hand was flung upon the blanket, palm outward, as if reaching for him. Klamin hesitated ––– if he came in contact with her, there was a good chance that hewould become sick as well. But then, it was rumored that the virus was spread by spores released by the vesicles, so he might already be carrying the virus. Also, he couldn't be sure if Actin 3 was fatal to all species; perhaps it was only Zylxxians that were threatened by the virus.

He decided to risk it. He reached out and grasped the outstretched hand, stroking the girl's fingers gently. "Hyrax, you shouldn't give up –––– you have to try to fight this infection; for your people. Your people care about you, Hyrax. _I _care for you. We all need you, too. You shouldn't be so upset about Epi'do ––– it was no fault of your own that he was disloyal and deserted his people in their time of need. When the virus passes, you can choose among those who have remained loyal to you to become your second-in-command, because they have proven their faithfulness, and you know that they love you."

Their was no change in the sleeping girl's face, but her hand squeezed his fingers weakly.

"I have to go now ––– I am going to try to find an antidote to save you and the people ––– but I want you to tell you something, even if you can't hear me, because I think you should know." He leaned down next to her ear. "When the Jedi emissary leaves, I will have to be gone. Because, well, _I am not from Zylxx._"

He patted her hand and rose, smoothing the rumpled sheets. She sighed softly in her sleep. She looked so helpless ––– her skin was so transparent, you could count the purple-blue veins in every part of her body. No ––– it would not be long before Hyrax went to rest with the house of her predecessors. It was hopeless to even try to fight; Adriaan had defiantly challenged the CIS, against all odds, and she had failed. And Klamin had failed, too ––– he had tried to find a cure to the virus; he had even gone so far as to search Epi'do's database for information ––– and he had found nothing. Hyrax would die, Adriaan would die, they would _all _die. It was inevitable. No one was strong enough to fight death.

His eyes smarted with unshed tears, and he nodded jerkily at the medic as he strode quickly out, avoiding the guard's gaze so no one would see that he was crying. He ran through the hallway aimlessly, his boots echoing sadly through the silent, empty halls. _Life is this hallway; it is empty ––– and if you look back, all that you can hear is the echo of your own footsteps ––– your past. _

"Yo, WICKED man, watch where you're going ––– I nearly spit lava all over you."

He quickly rubbed his hand across his face so that Heatrian wouldn't see that he had been grieving. Heatrian was one of those beings that just didn't understand grief; in fact, Klamin often wondered whether his servant had any feelings at all.

"So, what up, WICKED?" Heatrian was asking now. "Where've you been?"

"On duty," Klamin said sharply. "And out and about."

"Where exactly is 'out and about' eh, WICKED?" the Pyronite asked. "You are being WICKEDLY interesting, for once."

"Why should you want to know?" Klamin said irately. "What _I'd _like to know is where your precious wicked fiends have got to. I thought you three were inseparable."

"Currently, they are WICKEDLY eating lunch with the Jedi Apprentice, Kan Enik," Heatrian replied. "I have no GOOD doubt that this activity will occupy them for some time. So what's up? You look like you've seen a GOOD old ghost."

"I saw Hyrax," Klamin said shortly.

The Pyronite's manner abruptly changed from jocular to solemn. "Is it bad?"

"She's dying." His voice sounded rough, as if his words were being chiseled on a piece of duracrete.

"Hey, cheer up, WICKED man, we…_you _will find the cure soon."

"How would you know?"

"That Force thing Falcon always talks about is telling me."

Klamin didn't know why the name always made his brain feel like it was being pierced by a thousand swords. "You have kept the Jedi students from the secret so far, I hope."

Heatrian spat lava out the side of his mouth. "Blind as cave-fish; except for that GOOD one ––– Kan. He is beginning to have suspicions, though so far, he has not asked me any GOOD questions. He is very courteous ––– I think he can feel when the WICKED ones stray to a topic too close to my liking, because he always WICKEDLY changes the subject. You nearly gave it away this morning, you GOOD Shi'Odo."

"Me?! How did I give anything away? I was flawless, while you were stupid enough to actually _show_ them the place where Falcon gives me Force communications! Seriously, what were you thinking?"

"Actually, I am beginning to have my doubts about this Falcon of yours," the Pyronite said huffily. "What is he? Who is he? Kan said something about feeling the dark side down there; if he is right, then you are in danger. There was no Jedi by the name of Falcon ––– that man is a fraud. Or something worse."

"Oh? Perhaps you are deducting that he is a sith cultist?" Klamin asked sarcastically. "Are you seriously accusing that harmless old man of withholding vital information on that virus?"

"I have often contemplated it," the Pyronite said evenly. "And what that GOOD Kan said only sharpened my suspicions. Furthermore, I think that you are being inaccurate by describing Falcon as a 'harmless old man' If he is harmless, why does he only come when the seven moons are full, in the dead of night, when all are asleep?"

"He does not feel comfortable with these idiotic Zylxxian court rules," Klamin said. "Even you hate living here. If I had a choice, I would not let these lunatic Nebulae see me, either."

"Still, you can't expect me to believe he has nothing to hide."

"Well, Hot Boy, let your skeptical mind be at peace; I consulted with Falcon yesterday. He knew nothing of this virus, but he thinks that we'll find a clue in Epi'do's office. So that's where I'm heading now."

The Pyronite's face had turned a strange pale color, as if what Klamin suggested frightened him. "Oh no! I mean, come on, WICKED, you already searched his office, remember? There was nothing, nothing at all. You don't need to go back there…"

"Heatrian, you know that I didn't get to search as thoroughly as I would have liked," he said. "I had to get out before he caught me in there, remember? I didn't get a chance to go back when Actin 3 appeared; there just wasn't enough time. Epi'do's gone now ––– there will be no one to stop me."

"But, WICKED, you don't understand ––– it might be empty, or booby-trapped, or –––"

"I think he was in too much of a hurry to get out of the city to waste time by taking or destroying anything," Klamin said dryly. "Is it me, or are you trying to prevent me from searching his office? Are you hiding something?"

They were standing outside the door now. The alien's eyes darted from the closed door to Klamin's face. Heatrian licked his lips. "No."

Klamin grinned. "Good. Now, shall we go in?"

Without waiting to hear his nervous Pyronite's reply, he shoved open the door with one hand. "What the heck –––"

He didn't know who was more surprised ––– Kan, Terry, Na'thin, or himself. He was so shocked, he temporarily lost his guard and unconsciously shape-shifted back to his original form. Heatrian covered his face with his hands, and the others stared at Klamin in pale-faced silence. Then Klamin realized his slip. He suddenly felt a desperate urge to run out of the room and hide. But some inner strength of will kept him standing there, blocking their escape.

Perhaps it was Kan's reaction that surprised him most of all. "I knew it," the boy murmured.

*****

"I ––– I can explain," Klamin stammered. "Few people know that Zylxxians have the ability to shapeshift…"

Kan held up a hand. "Hold it right there. That's a lie. Why are you trying to deceive everyone?"

The shapeshifter had sunk to the floor in defeat. "It's rather complicated," he began.

"Then you might as well start explaining right now," Kan said sternly. "Who are you? And what do you want?"

"Hey!" Klamin sat up suddenly. "_I'm _the one supposed to be asking questions, not you. What do you think you're doing in Epi'do's office? What is your issue? You've been sneaking around in private places without anyone's permission. Now, I don't know the Zylxxian Book of Codes per se, but I do know that there is a harsh penalty for trespassers –––"

"But how is it _your _business to be in here?" Kan asked indignantly. "The look on your face as you opened the door made it obvious that you weren't expecting to see us in here. If you're going to call us sneaks, then you're one of us."

"I never called you a sneak, I just said –––"

Terry and Na'thin plugged their ears. "GOODS, shut up!"

Heatrian kicked Klamin in the shins, and the shapeshifter turned into a Rodian. "That's enough," the Pyronite said. "Someone WICKED has got to own up –––– Klamin, I _was _trying to WICKEDLY prevent you from going into Epi'do's office, because I knew that Kan and the WICKEDS really weren't eating lunch."

"I wish we WICKEDLY were," Terry murmured, but Kan silenced him with a glare.

"Yes, I admit we were trying to WICKEDLY deceive you," Heatrian continued. "But, you see, we did it for a WICKED purpose ––– we're trying to find a cure for Actin 3. Now, Klamin, you may begin answering your own questions, or I will answer them for you."

Klamin sighed. "All right; I came in here for the same reasons as you ––– I never quite trusted Epi'do when he was Captain, and when he abandoned us, that made me mistrust him even more. When the Separatists first invaded, I had broken into this office –––– I suspected Epi'do of being a CIS spy. The idea was not as far-fetched as it sounds –––– thanks to the research of your Master, Adriaan ell Talaan, we discovered that a Separatist was responsible for the scientist being sent to the volcanoes ––– it was the CIS's plan for us to be wiped out by the virus. Of course, this couldn't have been done without the help of an insider; Epi'do could all too easily organize a research party to "accidently" carry the virus into the city. It is also interesting to note that Epi'do left Hÿÿ a good two hours before Actin 3 was known to take affect. He must have known something of this virus beforehand."

"You still haven't told us who you are and why you've been deceiving us," Kan said.

The Pyronite and the shapeshifter exchanged glances. "Well, he didn't lie to you about our names, at least," Heatrian began. "His name really is Klamin J'Oli, and he really is a loyal subject to the Queen. He is not a Zylxxian, however. He is a WICKED and rare shapeshifting species known as the Giant Shi'Odo. They are grayish-skinned beings in their original form, and they shapeshift rapidly. You must not GOODLY confuse Shi'Odo's with Clawdites, however. Clawdites are GOOD and take immense concentration to shapeshift, whereas WICKED Shi'Odo's can shapeshift without even thinking. Isn't that WICKED?"

"We told GOOD old Adriaan that Klamin could shapeshift; but she didn't believe us," Na'thin sulked.

"Yeah, he changed into a rancor to GOODLY scare us into obeying him," Terry said. "Totally not cool. Very GOOD."

"Hey, I was only doing my job," Klamin said. "I was responsible for you, and I had to scare some sense into you to make you guys listen ––– and a rancor is one of my favorite forms."

"So _that's _why you kept on calling him a 'Good Shi'Odo'" Kan said. "I wondered about that ––– I thought it was a swear word or something. But what makes him a Giant Shi'Odo?"

"Don't interrupt, GOOD. He's a Giant Shi'Odo because his species is larger than a regular Shi'Odo, duh. Our WICKED guardian, Falcon, was short on cash and suggested that Klamin take up a position in the royal court. That was when he was thirteen ––– two years ago. In this GOOD society, it is really GOODLY hard to get a position as a Nebula if you are not a citizen, so Klamin pretended to be a Zylxxian that had returned to his homeland after ten years in the Outer Rim –––– on Zylxx, all Zylxxians automatically become citizens, so you see why he pretended to be a native. Well, Klamin always was a little GOOD, but he was smart, so it wasn't long before he became a WICKED advisor."

Kan nodded. Now all the pieces of the mystery were beginning to fit into a pattern. Except for a few things…

"What about you?" Kan asked. "I can feel there is something about you that you haven't told me, Heatrian."

"I've spoken WICKEDLY enough," the Pyronite said stiffly. Klamin was looking uncomfortable. Kan turned to the Shi'Odo.

"Heatrian's relationship is kind of…complicated," Klamin began. "When I was made an advisor, the Queen had an initiation ceremony in my honor. Part of the ceremonies included the new advisors being represented with their own ––– ah, well, in Zylxxian society, Pyronites are not considered as citizens…"

"I was given to him as a slave," Heatrian said abruptly.

"What?" Na'thin shouted.

"That's GOODLY unfair!" Terry shrieked.

"But that's impossible," Kan said. "The Republic's antislavery laws…"

"They don't apply to WICKED Pyronites because we haven't been WICKEDLY proven to be sentient beings," Heatrian said miserably. "In a way, we're sort of like GOOD droids ––– we're not made of GOOD organic material, so confusion arises on whether we are actually living. Zylxxians believe that we shouldn't have the same rights as other beings."

"If you ask me, I think it's outrageous," Klamin broke in. "Zylxxians are not even indigenous to Zylxx ––– they immigrated here thousands of years ago and conquered the Pyronite tribes, driving them into the Zwel-jic Mountains. Since the Zylxxians believe that owning droids is wicked, they use Pyronites and the working-class beings to do all the slave's work. It's a disgusting practice."

"If you are so against slavery, then why do you own a slave?" Kan asked pointedly.

"He doesn't _own _me ––– no one can _own _a being, no matter what they might believe," Heatrian said. "Anyway, if he had refused to take me as a gift, they would have killed me for being deemed 'unworthy' So you see? He _had_ to take me to save my WICKED neck, and I will always be grateful for that." He smiled, showing a row of orange-red teeth. "As long as no one is watching us, Klamin always makes sure to treat me as his equal. Though I am far superior to him, as I am WICKED. But it's the WICKED thought that counts."

"So is that all?" Kan asked suspiciously.

Klamin and Heatrian exchanged glances again. "That's all; unless you want to hear our entire life story," Klamin said.

Kan grinned. "I may ask for it later. As for now, we've got to get to work."

"We're off-duty for like five WICKED hours," Heatrian said. "And I don't want to work ––– work is GOOD."

"Yeah!" Terry and Na'thin screamed.

"No, you idiots, not that kind of work ––– I meant the sneaking around work, unless Klamin objects…" he looked expectantly at the Shi'Odo.

Klamin crossed his eyes at him, changing from a human to a womp rat to a Pyronite and then back to his original shape. "Well, since we both have the same intentions, I guess we could give each other a hand."

"Whoopee!" Heatrian screamed. "Oops, I mean, GOOD!"

"I feel so loved," Klamin said, sighing dramatically.

Kan immediately sat down in front of the database and began overriding the code. "Klamin, how many files were you able to uncover last time you broke in?"

"Almost all of them," the Shi'Odo replied, coming up behind him. "Except for some of the coded files ––– those are going to be the important ones."

"Right." Kan selected an untitled file and squinted at it. "_Oh most Glorious Highness thou art the sun rising into the darkness of the night…you reign with the rod of dignity and discipline, your people adore you…_Yuk. This is a letter addressed to Queen Hyrax. Poor kid."

"I would hate to be in her position," Klamin agreed.

Kan selected a file entitled _Letter to the Ambassador of the Kiyp Belt. _"By the way, did you find anything interesting from your first break-in?"

Klamin frowned. "Well, I found tons of evidence that Epi'do had been in contact with General Joh-ma of the Separatist army, though I didn't know who Joh-ma was until the attack. The letters were always addressed as simply 'To Joh-ma'"

"Oh? What did the letters say?"

"I didn't really get it back then. Mostly they talked about the success of the scientist excursion to the mountains, though I supposed Epi'do was just trying to impress this politician and curry favor for being the one to suggest the trip. But I guess we know what he was up to by now."

"I wonder where he is GOODLY hiding," Heatrian said.

Klamin shrugged. "Probably in the Kiyp asteroid belt ––– that's where the CIS fleet is stationed. Once Commander ell Talaan clears out the droids here, she'll probably move on to the belt. It's a vital part to the Syleeto system ––– it's pretty much our sole resource. If the CIS maintains control over it, this system will become predominantly Separatist, even if Adriaan wins the battle on Zylxx."

"That's GOOD," Terry muttered.

"I'm WICKEDLY hungry," Na'thin whined.

Klamin looked at them and shape-shifted into a small rancor. The boys screamed and ran to the opposite end of the room. Rancor-Klamin growled menacingly and slowly shifted back into a Shi'Odo again.

"_Your Worshipfulness is thanked most profusely by her humble servant for so kindly raising his most adequate wage. Her loyal slave vows to continue his helpful service in the hopes of being rewarded by her kind and radiant smile, which is enough thanks for so simple and loyal a being…_Klamin, can you get me a bucket? I feel like I'm going to vomit."

"Hey! Don't vomit you GOOD! I just WICKEDLY remembered something!" Na'thin screamed.

"Hey, WICKED Na'thin, do you want me to turn back into a rancor?" Klamin asked threateningly as the boy began to writhe on the floor and foam at the mouth.

"No, you GOOD, no! Unless you don't want me to tell you thatYal Uher recently discovered that Actin 3 is not a chemical compound, as it was first guessed to be. Rather, they discovered that it is a host of viruses, living in symbiosis with the Pyronites living in the mountains. There is no known vaccine for this virus, which upon contacting an organism, begins to shut down the being's systems, one by one, until the host dies. After lytic infection, the virus produces spores that are released into the air, infecting any organism that it lands on."

"Whoa, all I heard was a bunch of scientific hooey-pooey. What language were you just speaking?" Klamin asked.

"The same as you, GOOD!" Na'thin snapped. "Do you need me to repeat my WICKED self?"

"Yes, please," Kan said. "Say it one more time; slowly."

"Yal Uher recently discovered that GOOD old Actin 3 is not a chemical compound, as it was first guessed to be. Rather, they WICKEDLY discovered that it is a GOOD host of viruses, living in symbiosis with the WICKED Pyronites living in the mountains. There is no known vaccine for this virus, which upon contacting a GOOD organism, begins to shut down the being's systems, one by one, until the host croaks. After lytic infection ––– whatever that GOODLY means ––– the virus produces spores that are released into the air, infecting any GOOD organism that it lands on. I found it in some WICKED medical records when me and WICKED Terry were checking out the medical center."

"Well, that would explain why us WICKED Pyronites didn't get infected," Heatrian said. "Though I don't recall any of us living in symbiosis with a virus."

"And the record still doesn't explain why me, Na'thin, Terry, and Klamin are immune," Kan added. "I was sick when Actin 3 was released, so logically I would be prone to the disease. Yet I didn't catch it."

"Maybe this GOOD old virus affects only GOOD Zylxxians," Terry suggested.

But Klamin shook his head. "No; Hyrax is not a Zylxxian, yet she is dying from the infection. Also, we have found many species carrying the disease inside the city, including humans."

"Maybe the virus randomly attacks random people for random reasons," Na'thin said.

"I've never heard of a virus that acted that way," Klamin said. "That was a random suggestion."

"Maybe it is a WICKED-minded virus."

"Does it matter? That still doesn't help us; we need to find the virus's weakness."

"WICKEDS don't have weaknesses," Terry said huffily.

"Yeah," the boys all said, "and you are GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOO –––"

"R-R-R-R-R-O-O-O-O-O-A-A-A-A-A-R-R-R-R-R!!!!!" The Shi'Odo shapeshifted into a rancor and lunged for the three chanting boys. Heatrian squeaked as Klamin-rancor grabbed him by a clawed hand; Na'thin squealed in terror as the other hand clutched him. Terry recovered his senses and dove away as the rancor lunged for him. He picked his nose and flicked a booger at the monster. "Take that, you GOOD!"

Klamin-rancor came to a standstill, his pig-like eyes contorted with confusion and rage as more tiny, disgusting, greenish-brown missiles hit his face. Kan was beginning to feel afraid ––– he wondered if a Shi'Odo had the appetite of a rancor when he was in that shape. If so, the three boys were in great danger.

"Klamin, cut it out –––"

"Help! Help! Murder! Croakers! GOODS! Save WICKEDS!" the victims screamed.

"A rancor! Don't worry, boys, we'll save you!"

Kan was dimly aware of two black shapes suddenly appearing out of nowhere, moving unnaturally fast. Two lightsabers, one blue and one green, hummed with energy as their owners activated them and charged toward rancor-Klamin.

Kan barely had time to register what was happening. "Stop! Stop Adriaan! That's not a rancor! Well, it is ––– sort of ––– but don't attack!"

He leaped in front of the taller girl, his face just centimeters from her brandished weapon. He stretched out his hands, palm outward, blocking her way.

"Adriaan, please ––– the rancor is really Klamin!"

"Get out of the way, little boy, or me or the monster will end up killing you," the girl said evenly, her face obscured by a shadowy hood.

"Kay, I am sorry to interrupt you, but this is Kan Enik, the Apprentice of Adriaan ell Talaan," the shorter figure said.

Kan drew in his breath sharply. The first one's voice was similar to Adriaan's, but it was not quite the same. This one had a voice that sounded younger ––– the other voice he recognized, the shorter girl was someone he knew, but yet didn't quite know…

"Andora," Kan said, addressing the younger one, "where is Adriaan?"

"First of all, it is disrespectful to call an adult by her first name. She is in the capital, forced to negotiate a treaty with the CIS general."

"Forced treaty? Does that mean we lost?" Klamin asked, shapeshifting back into his Shi'Odo form.

"Actually, we won, thanks to some ingenuity on my part," the older girl said, throwing back her hood. She stared with some astonishment at the shapeshifter. "Who are you?"

Klamin bowed. "I am Klamin Lashni J'Oli, chief advisor to her Majesty, Queen Hyrax. Ah, and I might also like to add that I am a Giant Shi'Odo shapeshifter ––– not to be confused with the inferior Clawdite species ––– so that we can avoid future confusion ––– I don't think it is very appealing to me to be carved into mincemeat by my allies."

"Giant Shi'Odo? Never heard of it," the girl said.

"I thought you were a Zylxxian," Andora commented.

"All part of my deception," Klamin said, smiling. "Heatrian will be glad to explain later. A Giant Shi'Odo is basically a large shapeshifter that has grayish skin and can shapeshift rapidly."

"Um, okay," the girl threw back her own hood and stepped into the light. Kan squinted at her ––– without the bulky cloak, he could see that she was much shorter than Adriaan, and had darker hair and eyes. It was the hood that had made her look bigger and more menacing ––– without the cloak, she didn't look much older than his Master. "Okay, since it seems that a lot of us are new, we'll have to do some introductions ––– I am Kay Lee, Apprentice of ––– well, _former _Apprentice of Master Nadma Okiwa. Me and my fellow Padawan, Andre, were stationed in a neighboring system…until the CIS overran it, taking both of our Masters in the last battle. Only me and Andre were able to escape."

"Oh," Kan felt his heart throb painfully as he thought of his own dead Master, whose ashes now lay scattered on the alkali plains of Geonosis. "Adriaan is my second Master ––– I lost my first trainer in the battle of Geonosis last month."

There was an awkward silence. Kay Lee shifted restlessly and pointed at Heatrian. "Who are you?"

"I am WICKED Heatrian," the Pyronite said. "And I am a WICKED Pyronite; a being made up entirely of molten rock. GOOD scientists are at a loss to classify my WICKED species as WICKEDLY organic, however ––– but don't get any funny ideas about you GOODS being superior to me, because I can tell that you aren't."

"Okay, I'll try to remember," Kay Lee said.

"I _never _consider a being to be inferior to me," Andora said. "So you should not worry ––– but I must warn you that if you are a member of my twin brother's club, you will not be on good terms with me."

"WICKED!" Terry and Na'thin screamed.

"You are the WICKED King's twin?" Heatrian asked. "Does he look like you?"

"Of course not!" Andora said, shocked. "Aedan is a very bad, naughty, dirty, stinky little boy with no hygiene or sense of responsibility. How _dare_ you suggest that I look like him!"

"Touchy, I WICKEDLY see," Heatrian murmured to his companions. "Remind me to stay as WICKEDLY far away from her as possible, because I might, ah, _accidently_ spill lava on her clothes."

"Check," Terry answered.

"You're making a WICKED decision," Na'thin agreed.

"Kay Lee, the other two boys whom you were 'saving' are members of Aedan's Wicked Club…you know Aedan, right?" Kan asked.

The look on Kay Lee's face said it all. "Duh; who could forget him? The idiot Andre was a fool enough to join his club after having only met them two minutes before. That little guy can be inspiring, I guess."

"Yeah." Kan was beginning to feel cold in the pit of his stomach. _First Heatrian and now this kid Andre…their numbers are multiplying._

There was another lull in the conversation. "Well, I think this subject is exhausted," Klamin said finally. "I guess we should explain why we are here."

"We've been sifting through files, trying to find a cure to this virus," Kan explained. "But so far, it's been like searching for a swamp on Tattooine."

"We can help you look," Kay Lee offered. "But first, I've got to tell you that General Hai'ki is trying to sell Adriaan medicine that has been proven to kill Actin 3. That's what they're negotiating about."

"What's the price?" Klamin asked.

She winced. "A free ticket for the CIS to get off-planet, with all their plastoid materials that they've been digging up ––– you see they don't really care for this planet since it's already in their power ––– without space trade between Zylxx and the Kiyp Belt, this is planet is cut from all its resources. This system is a perfect droid factory site ––– the materials are all here. I guess that's why they want Syleeto so badly."

"That is a rather high price for medicine," Klamin commented. "Why didn't Adriaan turn down the offer and just arrest him? I can bet you he really doesn't have the medicine ––– it's a ruse to get them all safely away."

"Does the word 'hostage' mean anything to you?" Kay Lee asked sharply.

Klamin shapeshifted into a Weequay, then changed back into a Shi'Odo. "Oh man ––– this is bad."

"She was able to get me and Andora time to escape that hotbed," Kay Lee said. "She can't attack them, because he's threatened to do something really bad to us here if she doesn't cooperate. And we can't try to rescue her, or capture the General ourselves, because he'd just kill Adriaan. So we came here to ask you: what are we going to do now?"

"GOOD question," Terry said. "Any ideas, WICKEDS?"

"Bomb him so that he GOODLY croaks?" Na'thin suggested.

"That would make GOOD Adriaan croak, too," Heatrian pointed out. "How about we WICKEDLY keep on looking for a cure? If we find it before they finish the GOOD negotiations, then nothing will have a hold over Adriaan and the WICKED ones, and they can all go home."

"Heatrian has the right idea," Kan said. "We should discuss what we know about this virus right now ––– maybe we know more than we think. Sound goo…wicked?"

"Sure," Kay Lee said, settling herself on the floor. "Okay, so tell me about this virus ––– all I know is that it's deadly and has killed many people."

"Na'thin, recite the scientific record again, please," Kan said.

"Yal Uher recently discovered that GOOD old Actin 3 is not a chemical compound, as it was first guessed to be. Rather, they WICKEDLY discovered that it is a GOOD host of viruses, living in symbiosis with the WICKED Pyronites living in the mountains. There is no known vaccine for this virus, which upon contacting a GOOD organism, begins to shut down the being's systems, one by one, until the host croaks. After lytic infection, the virus produces spores that are released into the air, infecting any GOOD organism that it lands on," the boy repeated rapidly.

"But there are some gaps we still haven't filled in," Klamin said. "The symbiosis with Pyronites explains why none of Heatrian's kind got infected ––– but that doesn't account for us. Shi'Odo's are immune to almost any disease, so I guess that explains me. But for some strange reason, Kan, Na'thin and Terry are about half of the human survivors of this plague."

"Maybe it's because they come from a different planet," Kay Lee suggested.

"Maybe, but that doesn't help us find a cure. By the way, why did you and Andora come into the isolation sector? Now you are potentially at risk and can't leave the city until…well, until we find a cure."

"We had to come," Kay Lee said. "I didn't know what else to do ––– the comm systems aren't fully functional yet because of the atmospheric disturbance ––– so me and Andora both decided it would be best just to risk it. Commander Urak is in charge of the troops ––– so I left them all in good hands."

"Then they'll soon die, if you left them in GOOD hands," Heatrian said. "Way to use your brain."

"She meant WICKED hands," Kan said quickly.

"Then why did she say GOOD hands…"

"Heatrian, don't interrupt," Klamin broke in. "Now, is there anything else we know about Actin 3?"

"It spreads WICKEDLY fast," Terry said.

"And it has an interestingly WICKED combination of symptoms," Na'thin added.

"Infects both organs and the epidermis," Klamin said. "High fever, paralysis, itchy skin vesicles to top that…it is a very rare case, which is why it's so hard to combat."

"There has to be a medicine that gets rid of both the paralysis and the pustules," Kan said.

"What I think is most curious is the name," Kay Lee said. "I swear I've heard the name 'Actin' before, but I can't remember exactly where. Probably in a biology textbook –––"

"Supernovas!" Andora exclaimed suddenly in a startling voice, devoid of its usual solemnity. "I think I have it!"

"Oh, well that's just great, because I don't," Klamin said.

"A GOOD knows the answer when WICKEDS don't?" Heatrian scoffed. "Impossible!"

"GOOD!" Na'thin and Terry agreed.

"Would you mind enlightening us, An?" Kay Lee asked Andora.

The girl had swiftly overcome her elation and settled back into her austere mood. "I finished my biology course only a few weeks ago, so I am ashamed that I did not remember the name more quickly. Please forgive me. When Kay Lee mentioned a biology textbook, that set a bell off in my mind. Actin is, by my biology textbook definition, a protein that forms together with the fibrous protein, myosin, the contractile filaments of muscle cells, and is also involved in motion in other types of cells. Maybe that is why the virus is called 'Actin 3' ––– it breaks down actin and myosin, causing paralysis."

"But why is the number three in the name?" Heatrian asked.

Andora shrugged. "Maybe because of the three parts of the body it attacks: organs, epidermis, and muscle cells. Is there evidence that the muscle cells have been attacked?"

"Actually, there is," Klamin said. "Your theory is covering all the bases. But did your biology textbook happen to identify a medicine that heals the sick cells?"

"Fibers found in many plants used for homeopathic methods have been found to strengthen the contractile filaments, sir," Andora said.

"Homeopathic methods? What the heck are those?" Terry asked. "Because for some GOOD reason, my brain is telling me WICKED Na'thin has used that term before."

"Yeah, when we were searching the medical center, I asked you what it WICKEDLY meant, remember?" Na'thin said. "I was looking on their database, and I saw the word in the file, but you GOODLY told me it was all junk."

"Oops."

"Homeopathy is the treatment of diseases using natural ingredients," Kan said. "Hey! That breathing antidote the medic gave me was made from the oil of the Aeris plant ––– that was an all-natural elixir he used on me. That's why I didn't get sick with Actin 3!"

"Me and WICKED Na'thin drank the same elixir when we were snooping around the medic's office," Terry said excitedly. "Our WICKEDNESS saved us from the GOOD virus, too!"

"And me and Heatrian are immune to it," Klamin said. "Well, it seems like Andora's guess is pretty accurate. But if she's right, she and Kay Lee are in grave danger because they haven't taken any homeopathic drugs."

"Wrong," Kay Lee said, grinning. "Well, we didn't take it in the medicinal form, but me and Andora did have Aeris juice for lunch…the plant supplies more energy than protein pellets, not to mention it tastes better than cardboard."

"Yeah, well, I guess this is all WICKED, but aren't we kind of jumping to conclusions here?" Heatrian asked. "I mean, even if Andora's WICKED theory fits in with all the facts, she could still be wrong."

"Yes, I could," Andora agreed.

"Insufferable GOOD," Terry murmured.

"And another thing ––– the file said that homeopathy can only WICKEDLY _prevent _the virus from spreading –––– it didn't say that it would actually make GOOD old Actin 3 croak," Na'thin added.

"I guess we'll just have to test her theory," Kan said, turning to Klamin. "How much of that stuff do you have?"

"It's a very popular import here," Klamin said. "Like many of our food, it comes from the Kiyp belt, so it's very easy to get, and it's cheap. Lately, though, we haven't been receiving shipments of it, since the CIS have control of the belt. But I think we have enough to treat everyone."

"All right, me and the WICKEDS will go get the stuff and distribute it," Heatrian said, jumping to his feet. "Come on, guys ––– I know where it all is."

"Andora, go with them and see that they are…well, I think you know what to do," Klamin said.

Andora sighed wearily as she got up to follow the rambunctious boys. Now it was just Kan, the shapeshifter, and the new girl. There was a brief moment of silence.

Kay Lee sighed with relief and stretched her arms above her head. "Moons and stars, Adriaan has her work cut out for her," she said. "I can't imagine having to train both the Wicked Club and that pompous little adult ––– Andora grates on my nerves."

"I know what you mean," Klamin said. "I think Andora's a lot worse than Aedan, if you ask me. But maybe Miss ell Talaan deserves her fate."

"Who are we to judge her?" Kay Lee said. "Speaking of Adriaan ––– what if Andora somehow got it all wrong? What will Adriaan do then?"

"My guess is that she'll be forced to sign the treaty," Klamin said. "This is a life-and-death matter, and we're putting all our faith into an herbal medicine. We've got to be pretty whacko."

"If Adriaan agrees to the terms, the CIS will be allowed to leave the planet, along with any plastoid materials they've mined," Kay Lee said. "We'll have succeeded in our mission, and we'll get medicine that is guaranteed to work."

"I wouldn't put so much trust in General Hai'ki," Klamin said. "He works for the Trade Federation, and they're a deceitful lot. It's very likely that he'll give us a phony antidote. Not only that, if Adriaan lets him go, she'll have to follow him to the Kiyp belt and drive them out –––– something she would have had to do eventually, but she'll have to do it fast to prevent them from releasing Actin 3 onto other planets."

"And if the medicine works?" Kan asked.

"We can simply run over to the capital, call off the treaty, and blast Adriaan out of there before Hai'ki decides to do something nasty to her. We'll have the clones march out into the city, forcing the CIS back to their ships. Then, of course, we'll follow them to the Kiyp belt and wipe them out. It's very simple."

"Yes, very simple, except on one point," Kay Lee said. "How exactly are we going to rescue Adriaan and the Wicked Club? They still have about one hundred droids to speak of guarding the palace."

"You forget that I've lived in that city my entire life," Klamin said. "Those tunnels you used earlier to get past the walls also can get you inside the palace, if you know which passages to use. In a couple of hours, we'll know if Andora's plan worked, so we should be ready to blast out of here at a moment's notice."

Kay Lee and Kan exchanged glances. The Shi'Odo seemed to have a lot of confidence in his sketchy plan, so they nodded. "We'll be ready," Kan said.


	27. The Battle Goes On

**chapter 27**

She sat on a low black chair without a back, staring down the long table that filled the entire hall. Down at the lowest corner, there was the purple throne of the Queen. Sitting on the throne, looking like some dark lord out of a nightmare, sat General Hai'ki of the Separatist army.

"You know, I always suspected there was something sinister about you, Epi'do," Adriaan said now. "I mean, it was obvious from the start that you were controlling Zylxx behind Hyrax's back. Why did you do this?"

Epi'do laughed, removing his plastoid helmet which had been his disguise. "I knew you were clever enough to see past the mask. You have to admit that I was pretty smart ––– reducing the Queen to a figurehead, suggesting that scientific excursion that resulted in Actin 3 being brought into the city…why, I was even the one who hid Joh-ma in the underground network of tunnels when your precious Padawan fainted from fright at nearly being killed by the Merr-Sonn."

"It wasn't fright that made him pass-out; it was lack of air," Adriaan said automatically, though she knew Epi'do didn't really care.

The General stood up and began walking toward her. "Speaking of this Apprentice, how is he?"

The question tore at her insides. "He was left in the isolation sector."

"Really? Now that I find interesting." He turned so that he was looking out the window. His hands were folded behind his back. "Tell me, have they sent in an obituary yet?"

Her hands felt like ice. "No."

"Oh? That is a shame." He turned to face her, his pale face showing the ghost of a smile. "It makes one suppose that no one is left alive in there to count the dead, hmm?"

She remained silent, focusing on the far wall. He was trying to bait her, to break her down. She wasn't going to give in.

"He was very sick when you left him there, all alone…can you imagine? Your Apprentice, lying dead and forgotten, within the crumbling walls of the city…"

She was not going to listen to this; she had been subjected to this torment a long time ago, and she did not give in then, so why should she give in now, when she was so much stronger…

_Kan, lying dead and forgotten, his body rotting in an abandoned home…_

A gasp of pain escaped from her before she could stifle it; Epi'do grinned with pleasure.

"Good ––– so the Master really does care for her Apprentice. I was worried. But perhaps, Adriaan, by the purest chance, your Padawan happened to survive. Wouldn't you like to see him again?"

_Ignore him, just ignore him…_

"If your Apprentice somehow lived through the plague, you would want to see him again, yes?" He was looking at the expression on her face intently, waiting for her to register a change in emotion. She struggled to keep her face blank. "It would be unfortunate if he were to mysteriously 'disappear' between here and Hÿÿ, don't you think?"

He settled himself back on the throne. "Now that we have cleared up that little misunderstanding, I believe Commander ell Talaan is ready to negotiate a trade, hmm?"

"Free passage off a planet that you will batter into submission when the starved citizens come begging on their knees ––– it is a rather high price you set for medicine."

"The price was set high because the demand is high," Epi'do hissed. "You need this medicine if you want to save the Zylxxian civilization from being wiped from the face of the galaxy. You're up a blank wall, Commander, unless you already have a medicine. Then, of course, you have me in your complete power, and nothing stands in the way of you and your surviving comrades to continue with your conquest of the Syleeto system. Unfortunately, you are in no position to make such a brilliant discovery, and I doubt there is anyone left to save you. Even those two girls you jeopardized your own safety for their escape did not make it far. They met quite an untimely end just beyond the walls. Shameful that their lives had to be wasted like that, but it had to be done."

Adriaan gripped the arms of her chair so hard her knuckles turned white. "You promised not to kill them." Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

"I promised that _**I**_would not harm anyone as long as you cooperated," Epi'do said. "You were not cooperating, first of all, and second of all, _**I**_did not shoot them; my droid snipers did that for me."

She felt like lunging for the General and throttling him, but her concern for Aedan and the others' safety gave her the superhuman strength to stay calm and relaxed in her chair. _He's lying he's _got _to be lying._

Meanwhile, Epi'do was speaking aside to one of his droids. He made an impatient hand gesture, and the droid saluted and marched away, followed by ten other droids. Epi'do turned to Adriaan and smiled. "I can sense your skepticism on the authenticity of the elixir. Perhaps you will be satisfied if you saw it tested on someone."

Adriaan's blood went cold as she realized what he was going to do.

"You see, we've made several excursions to the mountains since scientist Yal Uher's untimely demise," the General said. "And my droids have collected several canisters of Actin 3. Joh-ma really wasn't lying when he said he had the power to release Actin 3 ––– he had been saving this virus to release onto other worlds. It doesn't affect droids, so you can see how this would secure the CIS's victory over the Syleeto system. Now, I am willing to spare a canister of Actin 3 to inject into a few of your Apprentices ––– then you can witness the results…"

Every strand of hair on her body was standing on end; every muscle inside her was tense. She couldn't just sit here and watch him do this, she had to fight…

_But that's exactly what he wants you to do._

The droids came in, escorting the Wicked Club. Adriaan looked at the boys closely for signs of ill-treatment. They looked fine, except maybe a little tired. They still had some of their old spunk left.

"GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD General GOOD Epi'do Hai'ki GOOD GOOD GOOD!" they all chanted, as if reciting a poem.

"Good good good…what language do you speak?" Epi'do taunted. "How would you like to become part of a lab experiment?"

They immediately perked up, except for Minir, who looked scared and frazzled. "WICKED!"

"Good, because Miss ell Talaan here does not believe the validity of my Actin 3 antidote. All you have to do is to sit here quietly and allow my droids to inject you with a high dose of the virus –––"

They looked at the syringe and needle suspiciously.

"Once the virus is activated, you will then be injected with antidote, and you will be healed," Epi'do finished. "Sound fun?"

"Sounds stupid," Minir muttered.

"Fun!" Jahn Pal and Sai'wer yelled.

"Boys, I would not suggest getting injected with Actin 3," Adriaan said as calmly as she could. The blood had drained from her face, and she could tell that her skin had turned chalk-white with fear.

"GOOD!" Aedan yelled. "Bring it on! We must prove our WICKEDNESS to the skeptical one!"

"WICKED!" the others agreed.

Epi'do smirked as he gestured at the droids to inject the boys. She sat rooted to her chair, forcing her racing heart to slow down. _He wants me to freak out. He wants me to show weakness. I have to stay calm; I have to think this through…_

_ "You will lose them just like you lost Kan."_

_ No._

_ "You know he's dead; you just don't want to believe it. There is no hope."_

She bowed her head. The traitor's laughter rang triumphantly in her ears.

_"Master. Master!"_

There was a surge in the Force, slapping her face like a wave. Her muscles went taut. _Kan is dead. Kan is dead…_

_ "Adriaan, we're coming to rescue you. Just hang on."_

No. Kay Lee is dead. Kay Lee is dead. Epi'do said so.

_"Adriaan, wake up!"_

Klamin.

Her head shot up as she propelled her body seven meters across the room, leaping over the entire table and sliding along the tiled floor. She lifted up her hand, and one droid clattered lifelessly to the ground. She whipped her head around to face the other nine who were drawing their blasters as Epi'do shrieked orders at them. She raised a finger, and they froze in place, unable to move.

"Droids, seize the Jedi!" Epi'do shouted at the immobile droids.

Adriaan turned slowly and faced him. "It's useless to shout at them, 'cause they're not going to move again…unless I will it."

She was astonished at her audacity. She marveled at the tone of her voice ––– so calm and poised, just like Master Yoda's. She wasn't even breathing hard. Hope had triggered her into action; the Force reassured her that they were all alive, and very near. She just had to distract Epi'do so that they could get in…

The General recovered himself and leaned back against the seat. "So you want to play games with me, eh? Dumb move." He pressed a button hidden on the underside of the table, and an alarm began to sound. The sound of rolling droidekas and super battle droids clattering to life assaulted her ears.

"I can just do the same thing to them as I did to these," Adriaan said, referring to the droids.

His smile didn't waver. She made a hand motion and the ten droids guarding the Wicked Club crumbled into bits of scrap metal.

"Impressive, girl," Epi'do said, cracking his knuckles maliciously. "But they aren't coming to attack you."

It was true; soon the sound of the small army receded into a distant hallway.

"Where are they going, GOOD?" Aedan asked the General.

He smiled. "Little Adriaan is smart ––– too smart for her own good. She was right; there is no cure to Actin 3, and there never will be. My droids are going to release the virus and wipe out anyone left alive on Zylxx."

"Then you'll just die along with us," Adriaan pointed out.

"_We_ won't die!" the Wicked Club screamed. "Only GOODS die!"

Epi'do smiled. "I'm not planning to ––– I have my own ticket off-planet. And even if I don't make it, it won't matter. Even as we speak, shipments of the virus are leaving the port and making their way to the neighboring planets. They will be released into the population, and they will kill everyone in this miserable system." He pressed another button, and she suddenly felt herself being enclosed within a ray shield. "Goodbye, little children ––– I am sorry that you have to die at such a young age, but you have been on the death list for two weeks now, ever since you violated all those rules in the Zylxxian court. The only thing I regret is that I am letting a little virus do what I should have done a long time ago. But that can't be helped."

"You'll never get away with this," Adriaan said, stalling for time.

"Yeah, you're GOOD!" Andre shouted, and for once, Adriaan was glad that a Wicked Club member was speaking.

"Don't leave us, mommy!" Sai'wer wailed.

"No, he's grandmommy!" Jahn Pal corrected, clinging to his cousin.

"You are just wasting my time, little fools," Epi'do said. He started to move off, but then he stopped, as if he had just thought of something. "Adriaan? What do the Jedi believe about death? Do they believe that death is really the end?"

Adriaan remained silent; he was only taunting her. He did not really care about her answer: about how death was a natural part of life ––– how it was not an end, but a beginning of something new, as birth was a beginning.

"When a WICKED dies ––– which is rare ––– they are joined with the Force," Minir said, answering the question.

Epi'do's mocking laughter pierced her heart and made prickles go down her spine. "In that case, when you join the Force, say hello to Klamin for me."

"Why can't you just say hello now? Or are you in too much of a hurry to bother with me?"

Epi'do looked like he had run face to face with a ghost. Adriaan suddenly realized that the General's reaction was the most hilarious thing she had ever seen, and she joined the Wicked Club in their joyous laughter. Her heart leaped inside her as Klamin's voice cut through the silence like a razor-edge blade. "What's wrong, Epi? Don't have enough time for a chitchat with an old friend?"

"Droids!" the General yelled tonelessly, but another voice cut him short.

"Clones! Surround him!"

"WIC-Kan!" the Wicked Club screamed joyously. "Yo, WICKED Na'thin! What's up, WICKED Terry?!"

They were all standing there, surrounding the General ––– Klamin, Kan, Kay Lee, Andora, Terry, Na'thin…the last figure was an unclear shape, with reddish-orange skin that glowed like fire and pooled all over the floor. Seven lightsaber shafts were pointed at Epi'do's throat. _Wait a minute, _SEVEN _lightsabers? Fiery skin pooling all over the floor? I must be going out of my mind!_

She could see the white figures of the clones assembling around Epi'do, enclosing him within a tight circle. Kan was saying something more, but she couldn't understand him. _Actin 3…even as we speak he's shipping Actin 3 to other parts of the Syleeto system. _"Kan! Don't worry about him! Tell the clones to make their way to the hangar bay to stop the droids!" Adriaan screamed. "They're going to kill the rest of Hÿÿ by rereleasing the virus!"

"Urak, take your troops and follow Adriaan's command!" Kay Lee said.

"WICKED Terry! WICKED Na'thin! Ray shields!" Aedan yelled.

Just then blaster fire erupted as several battle droids and droidekas entered the room. The seven lightsabers moved to deflect the bolts back at the droids. The clones began to push forward, trying to get past the door, but the droids kept a steady stream of fire coming at them.

"Just turn off the ray shields you stupid GOOD lumps of bantha fodder!" Minir shrieked.

Suddenly something happened Adriaan would never forget. Klamin extricated himself from the defensive ring of clones and leaped across the room, narrowly avoiding a destroyer's laser cannon by ducking at the last possible minute underneath the table. He skidded to a stop and raised a hand. Adriaan blinked; the ray shields were up. But how? Klamin hadn't disarmed them…or had he?

There was no time to ask, because Adriaan still had a ton of things left to do. She nodded at Klamin in thanks and began zigzagging toward the door, dodging the blaster bolts. Klamin ran at an easy lope beside her. "What's up?"

Adriaan glanced at him as he deflected a blast aimed for her head. "I knew there was something about you," she said above the roar of the battle. "Why didn't you tell me you were a Jedi? It was obvious that you were a Force-sensitive; your skills and reaction time were a dead giveaway."

He shrugged apologetically. "I'm not really a Jedi ––– I learned how to use the Force naturally…it was just a gift I had."

"And the lightsaber?" Adriaan asked, Force-pushing a droideka blocking the doorway.

"Long story. A Jedi gave it to me several years ago, saying that if I wanted to become a Jedi, to find someone to take me to the Temple on Coruscant."

"Why didn't he just take you there himself?" Adriaan asked.

"He's sort of a banished Jedi."

_Oh, maybe it was one of the Lost Twenty that found him. Hopefully it wasn't Count Dooku._

To test him, she said aloud, "Did he ever tell you his name?"

"Of course; he was called the Night Falcon ––– a legendary figure in the Jedi history, he told me. But your Apprentice said there was no such Jedi…"

"Kan needs to keep up on his Jedi history," Adriaan said. "Night Falcon was a great Jedi who left the Order twenty years ago to seek an inner peace he could not find within the Temple walls." To herself, she thought, _Wow, this is amazing. If Klamin has had training with the Night Falcon, he could have great potential as a Jedi. Night Falcon was adept in an ancient Force practice that has been lost over the centuries. He never took on an Apprentice to learn the newly found art, so when we lost him, we lost the knowledge of it, too. _

"Adriaan!" Kay Lee was waving at her to join them.

"Did you bring my lightsaber?" Adriaan yelled.

"Yeah, where's my WICKED tool of destruction?" Aedan demanded.

Andora withdrew several cylindrical objects and began tossing them at the Wicked Club. By now, Adriaan and Klamin had reached the door. She looked back ––– if she went back for her lightsaber, she wasted precious moments in which she could stop the virus from being shipped off-planet. But if she went after the droids without her weapon, she was vulnerable.

_You are never vulnerable when you have the Force._

Adriaan looked across the space, at her Padawan. He was fighting with an energy and vitality that surprised even her. She wished she could stay and observe him some more, but time was running out. Kan's gaze met hers from the opposite end of the room ––– everything seemed to freeze. No words were exchanged, yet they seemed connected inexplicably. Suddenly Kan's attention swerved and focused on a droid that fired at him. He deflected the fire back at his attacker flawlessly, and the moment was broken. Adriaan turned and fled down the corridor, blaster fire skittering across the floor at her heels.

As she ran, she mentally calculated where the hangar would be, and changed her direction, sprinting down a side hallway. She summoned the Force, tuning out all the noise and focusing on the faint _clank _of droids laboring in a hangar. She put on more speed, using the Force to make her feet fly across the floor faster than a blaster bolt could fire.

Even though she was concentrating on where the noise of the hangar bay was coming from, she was still wary and alert to her immediate surroundings. It took her only about two seconds to digest that Klamin was still keeping pace with her, even though she was running faster than an average Jedi Knight could run. She turned with some annoyance at her tagalong, wondering why he was so determined to keep on following her.

Her pace staggered as she gasped in surprise. She checked herself before she came to a standstill and began running again. Klamin was no longer a Zylxxian ––– he was a small, blindingly bright creature that seemed almost a blur as he ran beside her. _A lightningite, _she thought wonderingly. "Did Night Falcon teach you how to use the Force to speed yourself already?" She asked the creature.

"Actually, he didn't teach me much," Klamin said, morphing back to his Shi'Odo form. "Do you remember when the Wicked Club told you that looney story of me changing into a rancor?"

Adriaan nodded, remembering that she had originally shrugged them off. She had thought that they were just trying to be funny.

"Well," Klamin said, "they were right."

"That you're a rancor?" Adriaan asked sarcastically. "Oh, please don't eat me."

He chuckled. "No; I am a Giant Shi'Odo ––– not to be confused with a Clawdite shapeshifter or a regular Shi'Odo."

"Oh, well, that's just great," Adriaan said. "But, ah, what's a Shi'Odo?"

"Shi'Odo's are grayish-skinned beings ––– while we are in our regular shape, that is ––– and we shapeshift rapidly."

"Oh, a Clawdite."

"I told you not to get confused between a Shi'Odo and a Clawdite. The difference between us and them is that they need to concentrate very hard to shapeshift, while we do it as easily as breathing. Not only that, their shapeshifting has its limits. For example, they can't change their relative size, but us Shi'Odo's can. Also, I might like to point out that Clawdites are a divergence from the original Zolanders, who had skin-changing genes triggered by scientists centuries ago –––"

"Shut your mouth," Adriaan said suddenly. Klamin immediately complied, much to her relief. She hadn't meant to be so rude, but she needed him to be quiet because they were just outside the hangar bay. Adriaan paused, listening hard. Good. They had just finished loading and were starting take off. That would give her about forty-five seconds to stop them.

Adriaan burst through the door, followed closely by Klamin, who activated his lightsaber and held it in an offensive stance. It was obvious the Falcon had taught him some things, for he moved as naturally as any elite Jedi student his age could. His lightsaber shaft was an unusual white color…those hadn't been seen for centuries, since the white Force crystals had become extremely rare. Now, part of the process of making a lightsaber involved a trip to the mysterious caves on Ilum, where a Jedi-hopeful braved visions and wild beasts and extreme cold to find the crystal appointed to him, and build his lightsaber from scratch.

There were still a couple of droids that hadn't boarded the ship yet, and Adriaan went after them before they could sound any alarm. They didn't see her as she snuck up behind one of them and placed her hand over its control panel. There was a slight burst of flame as the control panel exploded, but she used the Force to put the fire out before the other droid noticed. The first one crumpled to the floor, a smoking heap of rubble. She poised and made ready to take down the next one.

"W-wa-boo-taaaahhhhh!!!"

Klamin's lightsaber came cleaving out of nowhere to chop the droid in half. Adriaan groaned and grabbed his arm with one hand, twisting it behind his back so that his battle cry was stopped short in a sharp exclamation of pain. "Yow!"

"You idiot; now they know we're here," she whispered, releasing him. He rubbed his arm.

"Ow…do you always have to be so rough?" he asked.

Just then, a high-pitched alarm sounded throughout the hangar. Adriaan kicked Klamin out of her way as droids came pouring into the bay. No doubt the CIS had kept reserves in several buildings inside the capital, so that when something like two Jedi blowing up the droid factory happened, they had backup droids to provide cover for the higher-ranking officers to escape. Typical of the CIS.

"What do we do now?" The Shi'Odo was pestering her again. She ignored him, moving her hands into a defensive stance as she spread her feet wider to help keep her balance.

"Commander?"

The first line of droids moved forward.

"Just do whatever!" Adriaan yelled, rotating her hands in a swift moving arc, deflecting the blaster bolts as they came at her. Her mind was racing ––– maybe if she could position herself just right so that they would be firing at each other…

Then she saw that it was no use. These droids were only here to distract her enough so that the dropship would get away. If she let it go and destroyed the droids instead, they might have enough time to beat the ship back to Hÿÿ and shoot it down before they released more of the virus. But that chance was slim. There had to be another way…

The ship was already taking off. She had failed. She screamed angrily as she slammed two droidekas into one another ––– the mindless soldiers hesitated; they could feel her wrath, and their mechanical brains feared her for it. In a normal situation, she would have relished the moment ––– but not now. She would be deemed unworthy before the Council ––– she would become an outcast. Everyone that would die in Hÿÿ today would be because of her. Because she couldn't move fast enough.

"See ya, Adri."

Adriaan just had time to register what Klamin was doing before she started to scream again. "You idiot! Sleemo! Bantha poodoo! I can't believe how brainless you are! Get down from there right now!"

The idiot was actually trying to slice through the dropship as it was taking off. Cursing his foolishness, Adriaan leaped for the ascending ship. Suddenly she felt a searing heat on her right shoulder, and she stifled a yell as she dropped back to the floor. She regained her senses in time to roll over and land on her hands and feet just before she cracked her head open on the duracrete. She had been clipped by blasterfire, by the feel of it. She leaped back to her feet, though the pain in her shoulder was so intense she could hardly bear it. She would have to redirect the blasterfire with only one hand ––– Klamin was beyond saving. She breathed a quick prayer for his safety as she dodged and weaved through the lines of droids.

"Adriaan!"

The slowpokes had finally caught up to them. Adriaan could already see Kan, Andora, Kay Lee, and the shiny red being ploughing through the vanguard with their sabers. The Wicked Club was somewhere within the turmoil, constantly screaming the word she had begun to think was the worst word in the entire Basic dictionary.

There was an ear-shattering explosion overhead, and Adriaan closed her eyes and sank to the ground at the sound. It was the dropship. She knew it. Klamin had sacrificed his life to save his people, his planet…his entire system. Debris began falling like molten rain, and she covered her head with her hands to protect herself from the deadly chunks falling from the sky. An especially large piece of junk landed close beside her, and she rolled quickly away from it.

"Looks like we're in for some rain today, eh?" a voice said close beside her ear.

"KLAMIN!" Adriaan popped her head up and began yelling at him. "You are the most moronic craziest suicidal glob of slime _Maritani hij'ai kiki undiai…"_

The droids were finished. They had won. The reality of it was inconceivable, but it was true. The Council would no longer watch her like a lab experiment, because she had proved that she was just as good as any other Jedi, despite her dark Force susceptibility. She had passed their test.

The others came running up. Adriaan was pleased to note that Kan wasn't breathing very hard. An improvement since the last battle. Klamin stood sheepishly to one side, enduring the insults placidly. She stopped fuming, out of breath. "You would make an awesome Jedi!" she finished.

He looked astounded. "You ––– you really mean that?" he asked. He looked like he was going to fall over.

"That was totally WICKED!" Aedan said.

"I'll say," Kay Lee concurred.

Adriaan stood up shakily, holding out her hands to balance herself. Klamin saw her stumble and caught her, much to her annoyance. "I'm fine," she mumbled, shrugging him off.

"You're hurt, Master," Kan said, starting forward.

"Ree," Adriaan corrected automatically, smiling weakly at him.

Just then her gaze went to the exotic being standing in the back. The thing oozed closer and opened its reddish-orange eyes wider. Something that resembled a mouth gaped, exposing lava-colored teeth. A piercing shriek rent the air.

"Terry, Na'thin, what is it, you GOODS?" Aedan screamed, looking scared. He clung to Minir fiercely, as if the sullen boy would somehow protect him.

"Oh, Aedan, why do you have to be such a GOOD old baby?" Minir said through clenched teeth. "Stop drooling on me ––– it's only a deadly walking heap of molten lava."

"Oh, OH!" the cousins shrieked, clustering around the pestered boy. "Mommy Minir, save us! It can't be true!"

"WICKED Klamin, what is that?" the being yelled through a magma-filled mouth, pointing at Aedan.

"It's alive!" Aedan said suddenly, releasing Minir in his curiosity. "WICKED!"

"Of course it's alive, you dufus," Klamin said. "Heatrian, stop screaming like a little girl and come to your senses. This is the fabled WICKED King you've been adoring and dying to meet these past two weeks."

"It is? Oh," the thing called Heatrian said, relaxing immediately. He prostrated himself before Aedan. "Forgive my outburst, Most WICKED One ––– your WICKED servants have introduced me to your WICKED Club, and I wish to join you in your conquest to make this galaxy a WICKEDER place. I was so enthralled with their tales of your great WICKED feats over the pitiful defiant GOODS, that I too, wished to be enrolled as your lowly but WICKED servant. Please, accept me as a WICKED member of your club."

Aedan looked pleased with himself. "'Great WICKED feats', eh?" he murmured. "Arise, WICKED Heatrian. You will become my WICKED advisor, second to WICKED second-in-command, which is WICKED Terry. Tell me ––– did they happen to mention my dashing, WICKED hotness?" he asked.

"Ah…yes, your WICKEDNESS," Heatrian said, looking with ill-disguised disgust at the Wicked King's oily hair, greasy tunic, and the ever-present layer of dirt on his skin. "You are almost as hot as I am," he added suddenly, spewing lava into the air to demostrate his point.

The Wicked Club erupted into fits of laughter.

"Oh hoh hoh! That's the…hah hah…WICKEDEST thing I've ––– hah hah ––– ever heard!" Andre gasped between his giggling.

"Who are you to use the name WICKED in such a WICKED manner?" Na'thin said, noticing the newcomer.

Andre drew himself up proudly. "I am WICKED Andre, former Apprentice to the croaked Ku-ku N'ut of the Jedi Order and I am really WICKED Aedan said I am very WICKED didn't you Aedan and I smell the worst and Kien is letting me borrow some of his fleas because he says I WICKEDLY need them and I –––"

"All right, that's enough with the intros," Adriaan said, wincing as a fresh burn of pain seized her shoulder. "We'll have plenty of time to catch up. First we have to clean up the mess…no, we should try to find an antidote for Actin 3, first. I'll need to consult Urak ––– we might have to split into teams because I'd like to attack the Kiyp Belt as soon as the Republic sends in more reinforcements…oh, yes, and I need my lightsaber."

"Hey, girl, slow down," Kay Lee said, grabbing her by the tunic to make her stop. "The Council doesn't expect you to be a one-man-Jedi army. Here is your lightsaber. We'll explain everything to you presently, but you need to get that wound treated before you do anything else."

"It's only a surface wound," Adriaan protested. "And I've got to command my troops –––"

"They'll have to wait," Klamin said firmly. "We have a lot to do before we even think about attacking the Kiyp Belt."

"If you need someone to command them, Ree, I can do it," Kan said in his quiet voice, but Adriaan marveled at the unusual confidence behind his tone. This was a different Kan she had left two weeks ago.

"I'm sure you can," Adriaan said, smiling fondly at her Apprentice. "I'm proud of the way you handled it in Hÿÿ…speaking of which, what about Actin 3? You shouldn't have left the isolation sector! You're endangering all of us!"

"No, Master, we found an antidote ––– oil of the Aeris plant," Andora said. "Very effective. Works instantly."

"Miss biologist figured it all out for us," Klamin said, indicating the girl.

"General Epi'do –––"

"He got away," Kay Lee broke in. "Smoke grenade. Sorry."

"Man." That meant the droids still had someone with a brain to lead them. That made things just a little more complicated, but not much. Epi'do really wasn't that smart. "By the way, Klamin, I'd like to ask you about that Force ability of yours…"

She saw his gaze light up.

"…Yours and Heatrian's," she continued. "Because he is a Force-sensitive too. So what I'm asking you is –––"

"Do I want to become a Jedi?" Klamin asked, grinning. "I thought you'd never ask!"

*****

_ It wasn't until around midnight when he finally found enough time to visit the Falcon in the secret chamber. As he entered into the dark sanctuary, Heatrian's words came to mind._

"I am beginning to have my doubts about this Falcon of yours. What is he? _Who_ is he? Kan said something about feeling the dark side down there; if he is right, then you are in danger. There was no Jedi by the name of Falcon ––– that man is a fraud. Or something worse."

_The Force energy he felt down here _did _feel different from the energy that Adriaan and Kay Lee emanated. With Falcon, the Force felt like a black cloud ––– cold, dark, mysterious, promising great power. Klamin had only felt it once from Adriaan ––– when she had been telekinetically choking Epi'do._

_His thoughts came to a standstill when _HE _appeared, floating above the dull black stone in the center of the silver-tiled floor. Klamin had always wondered about that stone ––– it was harsh, and irregular, with strange, contorted patterns across its surface, like the scars of a whip upon a slave._

_ "What is it?" the voice was hollow, for it came from a voice microchip in Falcon's body suit. A terrible accident several years ago had left him so mutilated he had to be constrained in the metal suit for life._

_ "I have done as you have requested, Master," Klamin said._

_ "Good. The Jedi will surely accept you, because you are the most gifted Jedi I have ever met, and I was considered one of the great in my time, more powerful even then that overrated Yoda you will soon hear too much about. But you must be careful of what they teach you, because they do not believe where the true power of the Force lies, and they may try to trick you into using the weaker side. No doubt while you are there you will meet the girl who murdered your family, but you must not kill her outright. She is very powerful. Wait until she is weaker; wait until she puts her complete trust in you. Wait until you, too, are made strong. You will know her by a black design tattooed on her right hand, like a black snake curving up her wrist. It was put there when she was made a slave, long ago. But most of all you must beware of her friendship, for though she may seem beautiful and charming, she is as cunning and perilous as a snake. You must hate her with every particle of your being if you are to have the resolve to kill her. You must never forget what Ra'hal Espera did to you. You must avenge yourself; you must avenge _US. _She did this to me; she marred me, and left me for dead. She will do the same to you, if you are not careful." _

_ "Yes, Master."_

_ "Go now, and fulfill the destiny that has been assigned to you."_


End file.
